


Makes Me Wanna Die

by LAAdolf



Category: Chow Yun Fat films, The Replacement Killers
Genre: F/M, Gen, Novella
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-25
Updated: 2010-04-25
Packaged: 2017-10-09 03:25:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 60,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/82503
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LAAdolf/pseuds/LAAdolf
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John Lee enters Meg Coburn's life once again. A Replacement Killers fanfiction sequel.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Makes Me Wanna Die

MAKES ME WANNA DIE

A REPLACEMENT KILLERS SEQUEL

BY L.A. ADOLF

 

 

Breathing into the Heart With Gracious Motion.....

 

CHAPTER 1: HOMECOMING

 

Meg Coburn rose that morning, thinking, as she often had in the six months since he'd left L.A., of John Lee.

 

She'd seen him off at the airport knowing that she would never see him again. Had been surprised and a little mortified to find herself sobbing as she watched him vanish amongst the throng at LAX. He'd gotten under her skin-- something she had not allowed anyone to do in all her thirty years. She'd returned home in a funk that had lasted for weeks, until the realities of life forced her to try to put aside the emptiness she felt inside and move on.

 

The force of her considerable will had propelled her forward. But John Lee was still a ghost who haunted her dreams when she slept and routinely invaded her waking thoughts.

 

A month after he'd left, she'd received the only communication from him that she expected she ever would. A small packet which when opened, proved to contain upwards of ten thousand US dollars and a note, penned in English in an elegant, flowing hand:

 

To make up for some of the damage inflicted on your livelihood because of me. J.

 

In the note, below the English, a few characters of Chinese had been written. Meg had wondered over them for days, until unable to stand the suspense of not knowing what they said, had repaired to her favorite Chinese restaurant to beg a translation from one of the staff.

 

I do miss you. Live well.

 

Not a very romantic postscript perhaps, but the tenderness behind the spare message haunted her for weeks.

 

The packet from John had contained no return address, just a postmark from Canton. The customs seal had euphemistically labeled the contents as printed matter. She'd kept the wrapper and the note, unable to throw away the unexpected link to her mysterious companion of those scant few days, months ago. In fact, she'd found herself pulling them out of the drawer she'd consigned them to, her fingers moving to trace out the writing, more times a day than she found healthy.

 

It was hopeless. She would never see him again. She had to get on with her life. She had never been the type to moon after any man. What made him so different?

 

Damn the man anyway. Could he not have sent her news? Had he rescued his family? Were they well? Was he? Were they still in China? Or had the packet been posted even as he had made his escape--and theirs? The fact that she would never know ate a hole in her heart.

 

Heart disease from attrition.

 

She was angry at herself. She'd made a point, since childhood, not to form attachments. To keep people at an arms length, to control her emotions when it came to her fellow man. It was safer that way, less messy. She'd grown a thick hide in the foster care system and it had protected her long and well.

 

Until John. Damn him!

 

She'd debated what to do with the money he had sent for several days. She had finally decided to be practical and realistic. What savings she'd had had gone to repairing her apartment and placating her landlord so that she could stay where she was. She had considered moving, but had ultimately decided against it. While not a classy residence, the rent was reasonable and the location ideal and the space cavernous. The money from John allowed her to pay off her replacement computer equipment, as well as to beef up security. She'd gone back to forging documents out of necessity, and found that in the destruction of Wei's gang, that more business had started coming her way. Part of her had wanted desperately to follow through on the redemption of her soul that saving Zedkov's son had begun, but straightforward graphics did not come close to paying the rent, or keeping her in food and supplies. At least for his part, Zedkov had left her alone--his gratitude for her part in saving his son's life creating a blind eye when turned in her direction.

 

Buzzing at the door of her apartment startled Meg out of her reverie.

 

She glanced over to the monitor that sat atop her filing cabinets, focussing on the figure that coalesced on the screen and in her consciousness.

 

A woman. Small boned, but still tall, especially for Chinese. As she watched, the woman's head swiveled toward the security camera which was now, just as it had always been, disguised from plain sight in the hall.

 

The woman's movement reminded her of someone. As did the lovely features that were revealed as she faced the camera.

 

"Meg Coburn?" a soft voice asked, looking into the eye of the camera with an almost preternatural knowledge of where it was.

 

Deja vu....

 

"Never heard of her," Meg replied over the intercom, her standard greeting. But something kept her hand away from the gun she had hidden under her desk. Some glimmer of recognition putting her through the paces, but preparing her for what came next.

 

"I need your help, Meg Coburn," the young woman said, and without further speech, held three items up and toward the camera. It was then that Meg had confirmed what she had suspected when she'd looked into the lovely young woman's face.

 

She was holding out the passports that Meg had prepared months ago. One she'd merely replaced the photo in. The other passport visible was one of two that she'd managed to salvage from a hidden stash the police had missed and created on replacement computer equipment bought hastily on credit. The name was not visible on the third document, but she needed no further confirmation beyond what she saw.

 

Alan Chin and Sung Ju.

 

John was either back or he was dead, the woman in the hall using the passports at his instruction as a bill of passage.

 

Meg did not hit the mechanism that unlocked the door remotely, instead standing up and dashing around her desk and to the door, throwing it open-- her natural caution forgotten. The young Chinese woman's resemblance to her brother was unmistakable. She was John Lee's sister, Meg had known it instinctively even before seeing the passport evidence.

 

The young woman appraised her quickly, "You are Meg. You're just as he described you," she said softly, smiling slightly, invoking the ghost of another smile on a handsome face. Her voice was dulcet, her English lightly accented.

 

"And you're John's sister! You look like your brother. Come in, please!" Meg invited, tamping down the urge to ask the question she really wanted answered and five minutes ago, damn it: Where the hell is John....?!

 

"I cannot. I need your help, Meg Coburn. Please, can you come with me?"

 

Although her well-honed senses assured her that this did not feel like a trap, Meg hesitated, her survival instincts calling out a warning.

 

"Wait a second. Go where? What's wrong? Where is your brother? He's not..." Meg paused, thinking of one likely scenario for sending his sister to her in this fashion.

 

"I've come to take you to him. We need your help. Please! There is no time to waste." The young woman responded, grabbing Meg's hand, looking at her, her eyes pleading.

 

Feeling for her keys in her jacket pocket, Meg nodded, closed and secured the door behind her.

 

Her heart in her throat, she followed.

 

They did not go far. Walking down the stairway to the ground floor, Meg's companion had led her out of the lobby and into the adjoining alley. This had given Meg opportunity to look at John's sister more carefully. The lovely features were, on closer inspection, marred by lines of fatigue and worry; the hands that held hers, cold with stress and fear. She could think of only one possible scenario and tried not to let it panic her as the young Chinese woman pulled her further into the alley; tried not to pull from her grasp and break into a dead run towards what she feared she would find. Meg's heart was thumping loudly in her chest, her breathing constricted.

 

There, on the far end of the alley, near the dumpster, a willowy, dark haired Chinese woman bent down over something in the alley.

 

As Meg drew closer, she did pull from her companion,and broke into that dead run as she realized what she was seeing.

 

John Lee, collapsed to the ground. Meg's heart clenched agonizingly.

 

Meg's long legs carried her the distance quickly. She paused only the barest fraction of a minute to look down on the man she'd thought never to see again, then she dropped to her knees at his side.

 

Her first panicked thought was that he was dead, he was so pale and still. The hand that shot out to touch the pulse point on his neck came away reassured of a heartbeat. Meg released a breath she'd not realized she'd been holding.

 

"John!" Meg exclaimed, her hands going to each side of his face, cradling his lax features between them. His skin was hot and dry to the touch.

 

Fever. Dehydration. She willed his eyes to open and to look at her with recognition, "John, can you hear me?"

 

The long eyelashes fluttered, and the soulful brown eyes beneath them opened, looking at her muzzily.

 

"...Meg...?" his beautiful voice queried bemusedly, as though he did not trust the evidence of his sight.

 

"Yes, John, it's Meg. You're home now, you're safe," she soothed, meaning every word.

 

Her immediate reaction was to call an ambulance to take him to the hospital. But even as the thought formed, she rejected it. She did not know what was wrong with him, illness or trauma, nor whether he was being pursued by assassins or police. While Zedkov had assured her he'd made the file he'd begun on John disappear as part of his gratitude for saving his son, Meg still harbored a basic distrust of the police. She could not count on his having been completely truthful. Not where John's life was concerned.

 

As much as she yearned to deliver John into the hands of professional medics, she also could not risk that in so doing she would bring him unwanted and dangerous attention. And if he had been shot, as gut instinct told her he had, hospitals and clinics were required by law to report the injury. She could not risk it.

 

"We've got to get him inside, to my apartment." Meg looked up at John's sister and mother who stood over them, worry deeply etched in their faces.

 

"Welcome to America," she said with feeling.

 

CHAPTER 2: BREATHING INTO THE HEART

 

Not always comfortable with her height of five feet eleven inches, Meg was grateful now that she was taller and stronger than the average American female, and better able to support John's mostly dead weight. John's sister and mother helped her as best they could, juggling what little luggage they had with them at the same time. As they had maneuvered him inside and into the freight elevator, John's sister, who finally introduced herself as Liu Shen, explained how they had just arrived in Los Angeles a few hours past. John had been ambulatory enough at first to make it to a taxi, but had faded fast after that. It had been all they could do to get him into the alley after being left off at Meg's building.

 

Once in Meg's apartment, Liu Shen had tossed their luggage aside and thrown all her effort into aiding Meg with John.

 

Looking at their small satchels, Meg marveled that entire lives could be reduced to such small bags as the Lees fled their homeland.

 

Easing John down on her double bed, Meg set about removing the clothing from his unconscious form, searching his body for signs of trauma and injury that would account for his condition. She was pleased to see how well the wound to his left shoulder--which he'd suffered saving Zedkov's son--had healed. But seeing it brought her back to the moment when she'd seen him hit -- she relived the fear all over again.

 

John's mother silently aided Meg, drawing her attention to a bandaged area on John's right shoulder as she helped pull his shirt off and away. Meg guessed that the woman had no English, or a very limited amount since she had yet to speak.

 

"Our escape was a close thing." Liu Shen explained as she was shooed back by her mother as she and Meg stripped John down to his skin, "Wei's gang still has some adherents in China, out to seek revenge. We spent months in hiding, waiting for the right time to leave. It finally seemed safe to do so four days ago. My brother went out to attend to last minute details, and came back wounded. The bullet, you will see, went through, coming out the back. At the temple where we were hiding, the monks tended and bandaged him-- they made him rest for two days, but the situation was such that John felt we must delay no more. The monks helped us get to the airport and on the plane. They told me to watch for infection, but I could bring none of the medicine they used with us on the plane." she said sadly.

 

Meg rolled John onto his left side to inspect both entry and exit wounds after removing the bandages. Whatever the monks had done, blood loss since their tending of John had been minimal. The wound did show the signs of infection however, and required immediate attention.

 

Meg ran to the bathroom, retrieving a bottle of antiseptic and clean towels. She returned to John's side, cleaning the wounds as best she could for now, covering them with a towel dampened with warm water. Carefully, she eased him onto his back, holding the makeshift dressing in place as she did so.

 

Meg began a mental list of things she'd need to treat the wound properly. More bandage material for fresh dressings, better antiseptics. Antibiotics. Broth, juices and assorted liquids to re-hydrate a body that by pinching a fold of skin on the back of John's hand --which "tented" noticeably-- told her was dehydrated by blood loss and inadequate fluid intake.

 

They had taken a terrible chance in flying with John in this condition. Meg suppressed a shudder thinking of the higher risk for blood clots and embolism that sitting in a pressurized cabin for upwards of fifteen hours presented. That John Lee had arrived alive seemed in itself a miracle. Their situation must have truly been desperate for him to hazard the trip at all.

 

Meg inspected John's body for other signs of injury, finding none to her immense relief. But the face and figure before her told the tale of months of hardship and stress. He was far thinner than he had been six months before -- and his frame had been spare then for man over six feet tall. His face was lined by the same fatigue and stress Meg had seen in Liu Shen's features and saw echoed more deeply in their mother's.

 

Meg covered him with sheet and blankets. She reached out a hand to smooth his luxurious black hair away from his forehead, her fingers tracing the line of his cheek. John responded to the touch, turning into it slightly, his lips forming words that his voice did not have the strength to carry. She shushed him, continuing to stroke his cheek soothingly.

 

One miracle had occurred already. John had returned to her. She hoped it was not asking too much to hope for another.

 

As difficult as it was to leave, Meg did so a few minutes later. Not sure if the person or persons who had wounded John had followed them from China, she gave Liu Shen a crash course in the security features of her apartment. She urged her guests to be as quiet as possible, and not to respond to any phone calls or visitors at the door, although there was little--even with the reinforcement she'd installed in the windows and doors-- to be done to prevent a truly motivated attacker from gaining entry. She queried Liu Shen on the possibility that they had been followed from the airport. Sensitized to being stalked by years of running and hiding, John's sister assured her that they had not.

 

Mindful of the dangers of the dehydration, the symptoms of which John was displaying Meg left Liu Shen with instructions to rouse her brother and make him sip water while she was gone, as often and as much as he could manage.

 

Meg currently had no pending document transactions. She took a spare minute to change the message on her voicemail to reflect that she was unavailable until future notice. That should prevent anyone except someone tailing John and his family from showing up unexpectedly.

 

Meg hightailed it to a nearby drug store which carried a line of caregiving products, including hospital grade wound dressings and topical antibiotic ointment. Oral antibiotics required a prescription by law, but Meg knew someone who worked behind the counter at this particular pharmacy who owed her a few favors for helping his relatives with forged documents. She left the store with the strongest antibiotic the pharmacy had in its stocks.

 

She then repaired to a Chinese herbalist shop on the outer fringes of L.A.'s Chinatown to pick up a list of items John's mother had requested through her daughter. Liu Shen had, in turn, written down the items in Chinese characters to facilitate the transaction.

 

Finally, Meg had stopped at a grocery store and loaded up on basic foodstuffs plus a variety of soups, broth, stocks as well as several ethnic Chinese items.

 

She returned to her apartment, never knowing she'd set a new record for speed shopping.

 

Stowing all the items except the wound dressing, antiseptics, antibiotics and some juice in the kitchen temporarily, she hurried back to the bedroom.

 

Lee's mother sat next to him on the edge of the bed, wiping his face with a cool compress. When Meg appeared, she stood and moved, indicating that Meg take her place.

 

Meg sat down, picked up the cloth from the bedside table where Lee Ma, as Liu Shen had indicated her mother preferred to be called, had laid it. She passed the cloth over John's face, noting the perspiration seemed to bead on his forehead almost as quickly as it was wiped away. He was shivering, even though he had no fewer than three blankets pulled up to his chin. He was still unconscious.

 

"We need to get more fluids into him. Dehydration is just as dangerous as infection. I have some western medicine here that should help with the infection, but we need to get it in him. Liu Shen, can you help me?"

 

John's sister nodded, stepping to the far side of the bed and seating herself beside her brother. Slipping an arm underneath his shoulders, she sat him up with similar assistance from Meg. Lee Ma hurried to place pillows behind her son's back.

 

"John," Meg urged, touching his face at first tentatively, then cupping her palm against it, stroking his cheekbone tenderly, "I need you to come back to me, John. Please wake up."

 

Liu Shen spoke softly to her brother in Chinese, an exotic echo to her own voice. Meg wondered if she translated, or added her own sentiments. It didn't matter. It was likely that his mother tongue would reach John first in whatever recesses his mind had repaired to in his insensibility.

 

But neither language seemed to bring forth the response that Meg's touch did. As before, his head moved slightly, shifting into her caress. Finally, a long minute later, his eyes opened and focussed on her face. His lips moved, forming her name, but his voice was too weak to be audible.

 

"That's it! Come back to me, John. I need you to take some medicine and have something to drink. Do you think you can manage?" Meg asked, her voice mild.

 

John nodded slightly, opening his eyes wider and regarding her, solemnly at first, then with a deeper emotion that took her breath away. His eyes moved as though he were drinking in her face, her features, cataloging any change, recommitting the whole to memory. She felt abashed by the intensity of his regard.

 

While his sister steadied him and his mother stood ready to assist, Meg tipped some pills out of the large envelope she'd gotten from the pharmacy. She opened the juice bottle, pressing the recommended dosage between John's dry lips, along with some ibuprofen that likely would not begin make a dent in his pain but which might be of some use in bringing his fever down. She brought the juice bottle to his mouth. John swallowed the pills without difficulty and drank long and thirstily from the juice container. So eagerly did he drink that Meg had to stop him, mindful of the fact that fluid intake had to be matched to his body's ability to handle it. She reluctantly set the bottle down.

 

"That was great, John, I'm proud of you. Your sister and I are going to change your dressings. It is going to hurt. I wish I had pain pills to give you, but scoring any would bring down too much unwanted attention right now. I'll try to be as gentle as I can, okay?"

 

Again came the slight nod, and a tired blink.

 

Meg spared another tender touch to John's cheek. Then she set to work.

 

In her varied life she'd dressed other gunshot wounds, even tending John's shoulder wound after the battle with Wei and his goons. But none had left her as drained as tending to John Lee's right shoulder. It had less to do with any particular physical difficulty or severity of the wound than it did with her desire to do what she must, but at the same time, not inflict any unnecessary pain. By the time she was finished cleaning the wound as best she could, applying copious amounts of topical antibiotic and redressing it, she felt completely enervated.

 

Liu Shen and Lee Ma had repaired to the kitchen as soon as Meg had finished the rebandaging, and already the delicious smells of cooking food were filling the apartment.

 

Meg tried to feel guilty that she was leaving her guests to shift for themselves in what had to be an unfamiliar cooking environment, but for the moment she lacked the will and desire to leave John's side. She sat now, perched on the side of the bed, smoothing the covers back around him.

 

John's mother had brought in a bowl of infused herbs that she had urged John to drink before he had fallen back into a weary slumber, spent from the pain and exertion of the wound dressing. Meg was relieved to see that he now seemed to be resting a bit more comfortably. She wondered if his ease had been caused by her efforts or the herbal decoction. She would have to ask Liu Shen about it.

 

She'd never been a drug abuser, preferring to remain in complete control of her senses and destiny at all times after some early youthful experimentation. She'd never regretted the choice until today, when having a stash of something stronger than ibuprofen might have come in handy.

 

Meg sat at John's side, staring at him, doing her own version of what she'd witnessed him do not long before. She studied him intensely. Committing and recommitting every little detail to memory, noting every small change.

 

If she had not been so worried, she might have been astonished at the underlying happiness that filled her--settling into the background of her sensibilities like a gentle fog. He was back. He was alive. She was going to keep him that way.

 

It suddenly seemed too unreal. To reassure herself she reached out and took his lax hand in both of hers then brought it up to cradle against her cheek.

 

"He called for you, in his sleep, on the plane," Liu Shen's voice broke into Meg's reverie, startling her. She'd been completely oblivious to John's sister's return.

 

Self conscious, she lowered John's hand to his side, and carefully composed herself before bringing her eyes to meet those of the young woman.

 

"He did?" Meg replied disbelievingly, finding no trace of guile in Liu Shen's demeanor.

 

"Several times. And when he was awake he talked about you, about how we should come to find you. He was anxious to see you again." John's sister continued.

 

Meg smiled wanly, "His passport probably just needed a touch up," she commented dismissively. She would never admit how deeply the thought of John's speaking of her, looking forward to seeing her, warmed her.

 

Liu Shen smiled, a knowing smile of secret amusement that Meg almost wanted to challenge her on. She fought the urge.

 

"When he became more ill late in the flight, it was then that I realized we must come to you sooner rather than later. I know this is a terrible imposition, but I did not know what else to do."

 

"You did exactly the right thing, Liu Shen, I wouldn't have it any other way. I owe you the apology, for ignoring your needs as I have. Here you are cooking and everything..." Meg did not admit that it was probably safer that they had, she was more renowned for her ability to phone for take out than culinary wizardry.

 

Liu Shen shook her head, "You are where you are needed, no apology necessary. I am relieved that you are taking such good care of Jian." Meg noted the Chinese pronunciation. It was subtle. Jian. John.

 

"He told me all about your adventures together when he came to us in Canton. I feel as though we are already old friends." Liu Shen continued. "He has always spoken of you with great admiration."

 

Meg did something she never thought she could, she blushed. She remembered, all too clearly, a tense time when she and John had been at odds with each other--unwilling hostage and unrelenting captor. But he had never treated her less than gentlemanly, even when he had pinned her to the bed and held a gun to her throat. She'd seen the torment in his eyes, remembered that for all the danger of the moment, his touch had been gentle. Had noted the disgust with himself as he had broken away and stalked cross the hotel room.

 

"And affection. Very great affection." Liu Shen finished, looking at Meg closely, her expression kind and understanding.

 

Meg was dumbfounded.

 

"His love for you and your mother was behind everything he said or did when we were together those few days." Meg finally countered, partly to steer the conversation into less dangerous--to her emotional equilibrium at least-- waters as well as to return the favor that Liu Shen was paying her.

 

Liu Shen dipped her head, breaking eye contact, a shift in demeanor that made Meg wonder if she had said something that gave offense.

 

"We have the shame of what he had to do to protect us from harm and preserve our lives," the young woman said quietly.

 

Meg had often wondered if John's family had been at all aware of the life he had been forced to assume by Terence Wei, had hoped somehow that they had been able to stay oblivious. Obviously, that had not been the case.

 

"I didn't mean it that way, Liu Shen!" Meg cried, "Wei was an evil bastard who destroyed a good many lives--literally and figuratively. Nothing he was forced to do changes the type of man John is. I've never met anyone so honorable."

 

"Jian was always the hope of our family, he had such a promising future. That he had to give that up..."

 

"Had nothing to do with you. John spoke to me of your father. There was the larger political situation to consider--and the ability of opportunists like Wei to take advantage of almost any predicament people find themselves in. You mustn't take that shame on yourselves. John wouldn't want that. He loves you too much." Meg stood and moved over to where Liu Shen stood, her head still bowed, a tear tracing its way down one porcelain cheek.

 

As Meg watched, Liu Shen brought her hands up to cover her face, and sobbed uncontrollably.

 

Meg, who never guessed that she possessed the requisite ration of empathy, was moved to reach out and enfold the young woman in her arms.

 

"I can only imagine the horrors you've been through, Liu Shen. The strain and fear that has been a part of your life for a long, long time. But I want you to try to believe that you are safe now, and that you all have a chance at a fresh start and a new life here. I will do everything I can to help." Meg soothed. She felt the other woman collapse against her.

 

"I'll bet you haven't had much rest in the last few days. And worrying about John and caring for him on the plane--you must be exhausted. You and your mother both need to rest. I have a futon in another room, let me go get blankets and pillows for you and make down a bed, while you go eat some of that delicious food I smell cooking. I'll look after John while the both of you get some rest. Everything will look much better after you've had some food and sleep, I promise you."

 

Liu Shen pulled away from her, looking quickly in John's direction, then shifting her gaze to meet Meg's eyes.

 

"Everything he said about you is true. That you are brave, resourceful, and kind," the young woman remarked.

 

"Don't believe a word of it. He obviously has me confused with someone else. I'm really a bully and I'm sending you eat! NOW! John will be all right for a few minutes on his own. I'll get some more liquids and nourishment into him while you and your mother rest."

 

Liu Shen bowed, and left the room, wiping the tears from her cheeks as she went to rejoin her mother in the kitchen.

 

Meg watched her go, then turned briefly to John, bending over him. She reached out to touch his forehead, smooth his hair again.

 

"Brave sister you've got, " she said softly.

 

Impulsively she kissed him on the cheek, then straightened and turned away to tend to her guests.

 

When she looked into the room she'd euphemistically called her "guest room" some time later, the two Chinese women were curled up side by side on the made down futon, fast asleep. The room was really little more than a place where she kept some boxes of supplies, extra clothing and the seldom used futon, and she found herself wishing she had better accommodations to offer to John's family. After all they had been through, the presidential suite at the swankiest hotel in town would have been no less than they deserved.

 

Meg moved through the hall, a tray in hand. It was vital that she get more fluids into John and as quickly as possible.

 

Meg placed the tray on the night stand and seated herself once again on the edge of the bed. She was startled when the movement resulted in John turning his head toward her, unbidden.

 

He was awake.

 

She smiled. "Hi there, how are you feeling?" she asked, her voice quiet.

 

He looked at her, pain evident in his eyes and face.

 

"I know, stupid question," Meg didn't give him a chance to try to speak. "I've got some food here, if you're up to it. Congee, your mother said. More juice. And some more of that stuff that your mother had you drink earlier. I really need you to try to get it all down. Will you try for me? We'll take it slow and easy."

 

"Yes," John responded. His voice was stronger, a good sign. "Thank you, Meg."

 

Meg beamed at him. "Don't mention it. Good to hear your voice again, my friend. But try to save your energy. There will be plenty of time to talk later. Your mother and sister are resting, in case you're missing them. They were exhausted, I made them lie down and get some sleep."

 

John nodded. He was still propped up on the pillows, so Meg tucked a length of paper towel under his chin, and brought a spoonful of the rice soup to mouth, tipping it between his lips. He swallowed, and encouraged, she continued slowly and deliberately, until the bowl was empty. Next she picked up the herbal decoction and watched him drink it slowly down.

 

"I found this joggers bottle in my cupboards, complete with a straw, that should make this easier to drink. Juice, same as before. Do your best, and take your time." Meg urged, holding the flexible straw to John's lips. He drank slowly, but deeply, his eyes closed for much of the time as though the effort took some concentration. When she pulled the bottle away, it was half empty. Good, the combined volume of the soup, the herbal drink and the juice would go a long way to fighting the dehydration. She sat the bottle on the side table then turned, removing the paper towel, and resting her hand lightly on John's chest.

 

"I'm going to go out in a little while and see if I can score you some painkillers, John. I can't stand seeing you hurting. Some hydrocodone maybe."

 

"No, Meg. I'm all right. Don't want you to...take that risk," John responded looking directly at her, his voice louder, stronger. Through sheer force of will, Meg was sure.

 

"I take bigger risks every time I fire up my computer. I won't have to go more than a block to connect with a guy I know. Shouldn't take me more than fifteen minutes. Tops."

 

"No! I...don't want you to get into trouble. I've brought enough to you." John replied. He was reaching out with his left hand, moving to take hers. She met him halfway, relished the warmth of the fingers that curled around hers.

 

"I was born in trouble, John. I'll be all right. Zeedo's been giving me a free pass lately. As long as I don't run around trying to score heroin, I ought to be okay."

 

John shook his head with as much force as he was capable, "NO!" he fairly spat the word out, "Nothing illegal. Not any more."

 

"Shit, John! You always pick the damnedest times to go law abiding on me! You do NOT have to suffer! You'll heal better and faster if you get some relief, and are able to get some quality rest."

 

"The herbs will help, they just take time," John continued the argument, agitated.

 

Meg saw she was fighting a losing battle, could see the toll being taken on Lee's energy. "Okay, okay. Calm down, relax. I won't leave, I promise."

 

John took a deep breath, "My mother is well versed in Chinese medicine. There is no need for you to put yourself in jeopardy." Not content to win the argument by default, he was attempting to put a fine point on it via logic.

 

"I just wanted to help, John!" Meg cried, frustrated.

 

"You...already have, Meg," he responded, squeezing her hand. "You've taken... my family in...saved our lives. The pain is nothing less...than I deserve."

 

"You never deserved any of this! Damn it, John. You're the most stubborn man I've ever met."

 

John, in spite of his weakened condition and visibly fading energy, favored her with a broad grin. Meg felt dazed by the sheer brilliance of it. "What is the American...saying? That is the pot...calling the kettle black?"

 

Unable to suppress her own answering smile, Meg laughed, "I've missed you, John Lee. Haven't had a decent argument with anyone since you left!"

 

John chuckled softly, then brought her hand to his lips and kissed her palm, " And I've missed you, Meg Coburn. When I was shot, my greatest fear was that I might not live to see you again."

 

Meg fought hard to hang onto her composure, stroking his face tenderly as he kept her hand captive against his cheek.

 

"I'd never have forgiven you if you hadn't." Meg paused, looking away for a brief moment to compose her aggravatingly unsteady emotions. A change of subject was definitely in order.

 

"I need to ask, John, so that I know how to prepare. The people who shot you--are they following you?"

 

"Remnants of Wei's gang. They are dead. I don't know about others, we took precautions against being followed," he responded, his eyelids growing heavy.

 

"His organization in L.A. disintegrated after his death. The police made sweeping arrests of the survivors after you left. Those they could charge, they did. Some of them got deported--presumably the same ones who ended up chasing you over there. I think you're fairly safe here, at least in the short term. I'm not sure that LA is a good prospective home for you and your family long term though."

 

"I thought... about... Seattle..." John ‘s finite stores of strength were nearly depleted. He was fighting to keep his eyes open. "Some...of my mother's....relatives escaped there...fleeing the Cultural...Revolution..."

 

Meg brought her left hand up to cup against John's other cheek, "Awfully rainy up there. But a nice city I'm told. Mountains nearby, lots of water. Scads of trees. Pretty and green. You could do worse." She modulated her voice to soothe.

 

John's eyes lost their battle to stay open. His breathing deepened. He was asleep.

 

And Seattle had another advantage. It was only a couple of hours away as the jet flies, Meg thought to herself as she watched him doze.

 

CHAPTER 3: KEEPING HOPE ALIVE

 

John slept for the rest of that day, not stirring again until the next morning. Meg sat vigil over him all that time, dozing when she could no longer help herself. She periodically checked his wound and the bandage, taking exquisite care not to disturb his rest. He was still feverish, but his wound showed signs of improvement, though she considered that only she would be able to detect those small changes, watching over him through the long hours making her ever more the expert regarding all things John Lee.

 

She found herself relaxed and happy, in spite of scant sleep when she saw John's eyes open and regard her fondly. She roused herself and began the tasks of caring for him.

 

Meg changed dressings and applied more antibiotics. John was quiet for much of the ordeal of the dressing change, Meg realized he was doing his best to exhibit a stoic front to her, in spite of the amount of pain the ritual caused.

 

Meg wanted to tell him not to squander his precious energy on hiding discomfort from her, but she respected his pride. Once again she regretted the lack of effective painkillers on hand. She gave him his antibiotics and more ibuprofen, watching him carefully as he drank down the liquids his body so needed.

 

She wondered at the stamina it had taken to reach her at all. On the run for so long, exhaustion certainly factored into his present condition. His immune system had suffered the privations of of the last few months, aided and abetted by inadequate food, a lack of restorative rest and the stress of the situation. He'd simply had nothing left to fight with when he'd been shot--in spite of the Buddhist brothers' excellent care.

 

The flight had presented its own problems. No doubt dehydration had begun with blood loss. If John had been unconscious for any length of time even under the brothers' care, his fluid intake may have already been inadequate. Pressurized cabins were notorious for adding to dehydration and John, from the sounds of things, had soon been in no condition to take advantage of the fluids offered on he fifteen hour flight. He had been right to doubt that he might survive the trip from China, the dominoes of his physical condition had already begun to fall before he had ever boarded the plane.

 

She brought in fluids, overseeing his taking of medication that was by now overdue. Checking his temperature and pulse, she then repaired to her small kitchen and warmed up food for him to eat.

 

She balanced the dishes on the tray, as before. John insisted on trying to feed himself, balancing the spoon for the congee awkwardly in his left hand. There was no movement from his right.

 

"John, I've been wanting to ask you --" Meg began after John had had a chance to nearly finish the soup in the bowl. She paused, as though not sure if she should continue.

 

"What do you wish to know?" he asked quietly.

 

"Why did it take six months for you to get your family out of China? And just what were the circumstances of your being shot? Liu Shen gave me the Reader's Digest condensed version of the latter and said next to nothing about the former."

 

John took in a final spoonful of soup, seeming to consider his answer before speaking.

 

"It was and is a difficult situation to leave China. There were preparations necessary that required careful planning, strategy and execution.

 

"And also, you see, Mr. Wei had a good many interests in China, and there were others in situations such as my own. My family was not the only one that required escape.

 

"Towards that end, I and a select few like myself set about carefully liberating some of Mr. Wei's wealth, hidden in secret bank accounts, some in China, some not. His illegal dealings financed freedom for nearly one hundred people. I tried to send Lee Ma and Liu Shen ahead without me, but they would not leave unless I did---"

 

"Because there was no guarantee that if they left you behind, you would ever leave. Right John?" Meg interrupted, her voice low and quiet. She had surprised even herself with the revelation, but knew it to be true, her gut wrenching with the knowledge.

 

John ducked his head, the action confirming to her that she had guessed rightly. "My original intention was to get Lee Ma and Liu Shen away. I did not consider that I had a future anywhere, so it did not matter what happened to me, if I never left China, I was resigned to that fate. If I ended up dead or imprisoned for what I was doing, it was no less than I deserved for how I had spent over twenty years of my life. The many deaths that I was responsible for in those years.

 

"Their intractability in not leaving unless I did, made me adjust my thinking. As did the fact that I was missing you. More and more each day. So we resigned ourselves to being among the last to leave.

 

"The deportation of Wei's people here made things more complicated, dangerous. We were often on the move in those months avoiding members of Wei's gang who realized what we were doing and tried to stop us. A day here, a week there. But it was good and necessary work, and I took pride in my part of it. That was a novel experience, taking pride in doing something. Having a positive impact on people's lives, not taking them. I thought of you often, and how you'd be proud of me continuing the work I had started with Zedkov's son. I hoped to channel much of that money that to finance the work of the monks, to help others to escape.

 

"My mother and sister were stoic, putting up with many privations. Always I tried to convince them to await me in a safe place, but they would not hear of it, were intent on sharing whatever hardship was necessary to stay together. They were very brave.

 

"Finally, almost a week ago, the remnants of Wei's gang found me. I was concluding the final phase of the business, transferring the last of Wei's assets to offshore bank accounts. One of them had been in Wei's private circle. He tried to exact revenge for my killing his master. I was able to neutralize him and his compatriot. But I was wounded in the process. The rest I think you know. We returned to Canton, to the monks there. They cared for me and my family for two days, then we finally made our escape.

 

"It had been my intention to establish Lee Ma and Liu Shen here first, then come to you. When I fell so ill on the plane coming over, Liu Shen formulated the plan to come to you immediately. She pumped me for information --I realize now--about where you lived and how to get to you. At the time I saw it as her way to comfort me, neither of us were sure I was going to live to see the US and you at that point. The rest you do know."

 

Meg, during the course of his explanation, had moved from the chair to sitting on the edge of the mattress. As he concluded the tale, Meg had put her arms around him, offering him solace, empathy evident in her eyes.

 

He returned the embrace, thankful once more that he had survived to reach her. Counting every privation endured worth it to be here and in her arms.

 

"I was right to be worried for six months straight. You were never out of my thoughts. I could sense, I swear it, that something was wrong, but having no information, no word from you..."

 

"It was for everyone's safety, yours included. In my mind I wrote you long letters about how we were and what I was doing and that I wanted to see you again. But I could not risk putting them down on paper. I dared not even try to get a message to you through the brothers."

 

Meg made a gentle shushing noise, touching his face, "It's all right. Messages can be intercepted. And you had your family to protect. What I went through was nothing--NOTHING compared to what you and your family were going through. I'm just so happy that you all made it out alive, and that you came to me first. That you didn't die."

 

Meg's eyes glistened with unshed tears, her expression stricken. It was John's turn to comfort, and he did so lovingly, "Mo men tai," he said softly in Cantonese, "mo men tai." It's all right.

 

Meg sat with John until, once again, he fell asleep. The effort of relating the story of the last six months of his and his family's life had seemed to drain away his fragile energy, but also seemed to bring a measure of peace. He rested more comfortably than before, while Meg uneasily contemplated what he had said, and had grown restless.

 

He had gone back to China, never figuring to return. To do the noble thing she had watched him attempt once before, which had prompted her to be at his side as he took on Terence Wei.

 

She was more grateful than ever for the miracle of his return.

 

Liu Shen and Lee Ma stirred not long after John had fallen back to sleep. They moved through the apartment, looking a bit sheepish, as though embarrassed at how long they had slept.

 

Meg, speaking softly so as not to disturb the sleeping John, assured them that their long sleep had been just the remedy for a long journey. And for the months of stress previously, she thought to herself, had it been her, she would have slept for a week.

 

Liu Shen and her mother listened carefully to Meg's news of John's progress, smiles replacing frown lines as she noted every small improvement. Liu Shen happily translated for her mother, who in turn expressed her relief in giving Meg a hug, murmuring her thanks in Cantonese.

 

Meg was entranced by John's family, grateful that she had had a small part in their safe escape, happy to finally come to know the people that she had only heard about from a taciturn John all those months ago.

 

In spite of the life they had been forced to lead for the last two decades, both women possessed a liveliness and optimism that Meg found herself envying. She marveled at their strength and bravery.

 

She wasn't feeling very brave herself or very strong. She hoped that by association she might learn how to be both again.

 

CHAPTER 4: WITH GRACIOUS MOTION

 

When next John opened his eyes, the light of the apartment was dim, illuminated only by a tiny bedside lamp of low wattage. Night had fallen.

 

John's first thought was of Meg. His last conscious memory being of her sitting beside him, her hand to his face.

 

How he had missed her! Even he had not realized how much until he had seen her again.

 

There had seldom been a day, in all those months in China when she had not been in his thoughts, had not invaded his nightly dreams. Shot and bleeding, he'd refused to postpone their escape, as the monks had suggested. In spite of their insistence that he understand the health risks he would run. If he died getting his mother and sister out of the land of their birth and near destruction it would have been worth it. But he knew he would not die. At least not until he'd had a chance to see Meg once more.

 

He had never allowed himself to consider that he would have a life beyond getting his family out of China. For all his sins, he knew he did not deserve any kind of normal life. For the last several years, he had been focused solely on surviving long enough to do what he must to free sister and mother.

 

But now...

 

Where was she?!

 

John shifted, realizing that Meg was to his left, sprawled on the bed beside him. Exhausted from holding vigil, she must have laid down to rest, finding the chairs in the room too uncomfortable and spartan to accommodate her tall frame for any length of time.

 

He did not mind. In fact, he'd dreamed her beside him many a time.

 

Quietly, he reveled in her proximity, drinking in the sight of her. He had noted earlier that she had become somewhat more conservative in dress in the months since he'd last seen her, less gothic in her appearance. The change suited her. The henna tattoos on her hands, the razor blade necklace and punk outfit replaced by well manicured nails, a yin/yang pendant and a flowing dress of flattering line and pattern that fell just above her knees. She wore her hair in an upswept style that favored the shape of her face. She looked...beautiful.

 

But then she always had been.

 

He intended at first, merely to enjoy the sight of her as she slept peacefully and companionably beside him. But the months of separation had created a hunger for touch, and almost before he realized it, he was reaching out, using the back of his left hand to touch her face, trace the line of her hair. He continued the contact, moving his fingers to follow the line of her neck, her shoulder, her arm.

 

She came awake slowly, languorously under his touch, her beautiful brown eyes opening and looking at him, their pupils large. She looked vulnerable, young.

 

She lifted her head up, propping herself on one arm, reaching out to touch his face. He seized the opportunity, slipping his left hand around her neck, and urging her near, until her face was close, their lips touching. Hungrily, he drew her down to him, loosening her hair, then kissing her deeply, tenderly, exploring her with his tongue.

 

She responded in kind, moving close to him, molding her soft curves against his body.

 

He felt no pain, amazingly, and the lack of discomfort freed him. He dared not move as he would have wished, his right arm stubbornly immobile, but his left explored Meg's body at will even as she trailed kisses from his face to chest to abdomen. He eased her dress up her thigh, stroking the soft skin beneath the cloth. Taking his lead, she slipped the dress over her head, revealing her naked body to him, shaking her golden brown hair down around her shoulders. He caressed her, exploring the peaks and valleys of her body with a light, sensual touch. Her body, like her face had grown thinner, and it worried him, her ribs plainly felt beneath the surface of her torso. He tried to put the concern from his mind, to concentrate with all his being at expressing his need for her.

 

He had wanted this for so long, dreamed of it every night for six months. And now it seemed that Meg had wanted it as well.

 

His injury dictated that he had to leave most of the work to her, but unspoken communication told him that it was a task she was willing to assume. Gently, tenderly, she lowered her body onto his and they melded into one.

 

He'd come home.

 

Meg's head laid on his chest, both of them breathing hard from the pleasant exertion.

 

John had never felt more happy, more complete. Their lovemaking had been everything he had dreamed and more. Even the pain that was returning to his body dimmed in contrast to the warmth and well-being that filled his spirit, fed his soul.

 

"Are you all right?" Meg was asking softly, lifting up her head to meet his gaze, worry mixed with love in her beautiful face.

 

"Yes... absolutely," he assured fondly.

 

"That wasn't a doctor recommended activity for someone in your condition. But I don't regret it," she admitted, her features suddenly painfully vulnerable, her body tense.

 

John sought to ease the fear her saw deep in her eyes. He knew how desperately she guarded her heart, her emotions. One wrong word now could destroy her and the future he was beginning to envision with her, so he stuck with the truth, "I've dreamt of this since I left you. But reality is so much better than the dream..."

 

Meg buried her face against his chest for a moment, a moment in which he felt the tension that had overtaken her fade away. When she looked up again, he cupped her cheek with his good hand. She closed her eyes, leaning into the caress.

 

"I love you, Meg Coburn," he said quietly, tenderly.

 

Her eyes opened and he saw in them that the emotion was, in fact, reciprocated, but he knew she would not yet be able to say the words. She'd shielded herself so fiercely for so long, it simply wasn't possible to admit it to herself or to him. At least not yet. So the reply she gave did not faze him. Instead he found it oddly endearing.

 

"Your fever's broken, John, you're gonna be all right, you know?" She said quixotically, her voice small, quite stripped of her usual bravado.

 

"I know," John Lee said and smiled, drawing her to him for another kiss.

 

Meg stood looking at her reflection in her bathroom mirror, trying to force the smile from her lips. She'd dozed beside John for hours, made languorous by the intensity of their passion, for all that it was necessarily understated. She had awakened to a lightness of spirit that she was hard pressed to contain. Fearing she might impulsively wake John, she had repaired to the bathroom.

 

They'd made love. Who would have thought it possible? Just hours earlier she'd been convinced she was never going to see John again, never even have the comfort of the knowledge that he was alive.

 

What a world of change a few hours could bring...

 

She tried to make herself to feel guilty for taking flagrant sexual advantage of a sick man. But however hard she tried, she could not rally the appropriate feeling of culpability. He had wanted it as much as she had, had made the first overtures. The act had been life affirming itself in the face of what had seemed desperate odds mere hours before.

 

And his fever had broken. He would continue to need antibiotics to keep it at bay, and he was far from ready to resume any kind of normal activity. But he was improving with heartening rapidity. Meg suspected that blood loss and dehydration had felled him more than the infection, which seemed incipient judging by the rapid response to the antibiotics. When he was feeling better, she'd have to lecture him about fluid replacement during long airline flights and after blood loss.

 

God forbid that either would ever be part of his future again....

 

For herself, the emptiness she'd felt all these long months, the longing, the sense of missed opportunity was gone. She felt as if she'd been granted a second chance, a new start. Contentment settled deeply in her bones.

 

He had said he had loved her. John never said anything he did not mean. She knew him well enough to be assured of that.

 

She, on the other hand, had not been able to say the words. If she felt guilty for anything, it was for that.

 

He'd fallen asleep again, spent completely by the exertion of their lovemaking--as tentative and tender as it had been. She knew he was in pain, again regretted the lack of a strong painkiller on hand.

 

That was a situation easily remedied. She glanced at her wristwatch, noted that it was only two am. Busby would still be hanging around, two alleys down. He got most of his business at this hour.

 

But how would she explain the sudden appearance of medication to John? He'd been adamant that she should not try to buy anything on the street, and she doubted he would believe a story about a forgotten current prescription suddenly found. He might take her action as a betrayal.

 

She knew there was one thing she never would be able to bear. And that was to see disappointment in her reflected in John Lee's eyes.

 

Meg splashed water on her face, then buried it in the soft plushness of the towel hanging near the sink. She moved back into the bedroom. She laid herself down on the bed next to John, slipping under the covers, carefully molding herself to him, relishing the feel of her bare skin against his. Possessively, she placed her arm around him. He responded without waking, turning into her embrace instinctively, and to the limits set by his injury.

 

She was home. For the first time in her thirty years, she was home.

 

Meg awakened to dawn light and a feeling of abandonment.

 

Her fingers clutched, expecting to feel John's body beneath her hand. Instead she came away with a fistful of bedclothes.

 

It had NOT all been a dream....!

 

She sat up, looking around frantically, her eyes finally settling on the dark head that was just visible above the far side of the bed. Panicked, she slid out from under the covers, grabbed the dress she'd tossed aside in abandon the night before, threw it on, and ran to John's side.

 

John Lee had apparently tried to rise and collapsed getting out of the bed. He was sitting on the floor, his back against the side of the mattress. His eyes were closed, legs splayed out in front of him. Bedclothes swirled around him, providing a semblance of modesty.

 

"JESUS! John!" Meg cried in alarm. There was no telling what kind of damage he'd done himself.

 

Men! All alike, every one of them. They got laid and figured they were invincible...!

 

She dropped to her knees beside him, feeling for the pulse at his neck. Strong and steady. Good.

 

His eyes opened at the contact, his gaze meeting hers. She thought she detected a trace of sheepishness in them.

 

"John, what the hell were you thinking?! You're in no condition to try to get up! Did you hurt yourself? Are you all right?" She ran her hands over his body quickly, checking for damage.

 

He was smiling at her, the cupid's bow lips turned up in amusement, the smile lines around his eyes became prominent. She'd never noticed he had them before.

 

"Your dress is on inside out," he commented quietly.

 

Meg glanced down. He was right. It hardly mattered however, she'd thrown it on to cover herself in case Liu Shen or Lee Ma happened into the room. While she was not ashamed of their actions the night before, she also didn't want to offend the sensibilities of her guests.

 

Damn him for trying to change the subject, deflect her anger!

 

"I'll worry about that after I've seen to you! Damn it, John! Who told you you could get out of bed? For Christ's sake! How long have you been down here?"

 

John looked at her equitably, his left arm cradling his right. His features were serene and not at all contrite, which made her all the more angry.

 

"Just a little while. I wanted to bring you breakfast," he explained as if it were the most natural thing in the world for a wounded man to amble off to the kitchen and start cooking.

 

Meg took a deep breath and counted to ten, forcing her anger to dissipate. Then she reached out, placing her palm on his forehead. His temperature was elevated, last night undoubtedly had been too much for him, as beautiful and precious as it had been.

 

She needed to get more antibiotics into him and change his dressings again, she knew...

 

"You're delirious!" Meg chided, never realizing that her tone lacked any real bite, was instead affectionately indulgent. "Going all domestic on me, are you? Okay, you're living proof that chivalry isn't dead. And I do love a man who knows his way around a kitchen. But cooking can wait until you're well. Then I'll let you make me a seven course dinner. Let's get you back in bed."

 

She thought about calling for Liu Shen and Lee Ma to help her, but realized it would probably only cause them undue worry. With no little effort, she aided him up back up onto the bed, admiring his naked form as surreptitiously as possible, reinforcing visually all that she had explored tactilely the night before. He owed her that much for the scare he'd just given her.

 

Easing him back against pillows she hastily arranged from the disarray of the night just past, she sat down next to him, kissing his forehead in relief. Then, putting on her sternest expression she leaned back.

 

"You try that again and you're dead meat, got it? I swear I'll kill you with my bare hands, " Meg scolded. She reached for the drink bottle and shook it. Liquid still remained, so she reached for the antibiotics and tipped out another dosage, once again adding ibuprofen. Only then did she allow herself to look John in the eyes.

 

He was gazing at her intently, his expression one of thoughtful regard, "You are beautiful when you first wake up."

 

Threats had no effect on the man, it was obvious.

 

"Sweet talk will not improve your situation, mister," Meg commented dryly as she slipped the pills between his lips and offered the straw from the bottle. Dutifully, he drank and swallowed.

 

"So are you, by the way. Beautiful when you first wake up, I mean," she added by way of abashed afterthought.

 

John smiled in response to her admission, and for the second time in as many days, Meg found herself reddening. She looked away, taking special care to place the antibiotic pills and juice bottle on the night stand.

 

"And even more beautiful when you blush," John continued.

 

Meg, mortified that she still possessed the ability after the life she'd led, dropped her gaze down to her hands in her lap.

 

"I'm going to go take a shower," she said, forcing her voice to remain even, "And then I'm going to find you something to eat. In the meantime, you should try to rest."

 

"Meg," John spoke, his left hand moving to caress her arm, "look at me."

 

She looked up, reluctantly. She wasn't used to being told she was beautiful, to see such tender regard in the eyes of another. She felt helpless, unsure how to respond. She didn't like the feeling at all.

 

John was smiling at her, his hand moving up to touch her cheek. Before she knew it, he was drawing her in for a kiss.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 5: DOUBTS

 

Meg emerged from her shower some minutes later to the sound of lively, if incomprehensible conversation. She was grateful that she'd had the presence of mind to take a full complement of clothing into the bathroom with her and dress before coming back into the bedroom, as John's mother had appeared in her absence.

 

Lee Ma and John were speaking Cantonese to each other, she sitting on the bed next to him, urging him to eat from a steaming bowl. Meg enjoyed watching the affectionate by-play between the two for the moment or two it took for them to become aware of her presence.

 

John's mother stood and bowed to her, murmuring a greeting,: "Li taai-taai, nay ee ho oh ma?"

 

Meg returned the bow, though she had not understood Lee Ma's words, she took them for a salutation. "Good morning Lee Ma. Thank you so much for feeding Jian. Did you sleep well?"

 

John looked at her, smiling at the Chinese pronunciation of his name, then turned back to his mother, speaking again in his mother tongue, translating for the older woman.

 

Lee Ma smiled and spoke again, three mysterious syllables repeated twice more in the course of her response. Again, "Li taai-taai".

 

Meg waited patiently for a translation.

 

"She says she slept very well, thank you very much. Liu Shen still sleeps, she has not been well lately, and Ma did not wish to disturb her rest."

 

Meg walked closer to the bed, gesturing Lee Ma to sit back down even as the woman indicated that Meg should take her place. Instead Meg climbed onto the opposite side of the bed, sitting as close to John as she thought respectable in his mother's presence, "I'm sorry, John, I was so worried about you, I didn't pay close attention to Liu Shen. Is she all right now? Is there anything she needs?"

 

John dutifully chewed and swallowed a mouthful of food offered him by his mother, then turned back to regard Meg reassuringly, "She has always been plagued by nervous conditions. The stress of the last year has been difficult for her. I'm hoping that being here, and finally being safe will be all that she needs to fully regain her health. That and Ma's Chinese medicine."

 

Meg nodded, resolving to keeping a closer eye on John's sister. She watched as John's mother continue to feed him for a few minutes, then set the bowl aside, nodding approvingly. The older woman removed the small dish towel she had spread across his chest as a napkin, revealing that the bandages Meg had thought to change were gone, a bulky, damp cloth draped over his shoulder in its place.

 

Noting her interest, John assured, "An herbal poultice, to draw out any remaining infection and reduce pain."

 

Meg smiled and nodded, grateful that more knowledgeable hands were joining in the healing effort and that the herbs she had bought were being fully utilized. Perhaps between the western medicine and the Chinese, John would soon be back on his feet.

 

"Is it helping?" Meg asked.

 

"Yes, the pain is less. Once the heat has escaped the poultice it will be removed. Lee Ma has requested that you then apply the western medicine once she has done that."

 

Meg smiled, "I will. You are feeling all right after your little adventure?"

 

John smiled ruefully, "I felt so well this morning, I thought I could manage. I am sorry to have worried you."

 

"I've spent the last six months worrying and wondering. I can handle a little more," Meg said mildly.

 

"I need to thank you again, for your help. For taking us in with no warning. I had made other arrangements, but it was not possible to keep them once we arrived. I had planned to come see you, but alone." John explained carefully stressing the last sentence.

 

"It's all right, John. I'm honored to have your mother and sister here, and everyone is welcome to stay for as long they wish," Meg responded, understanding the necessity of circumspection in front of John's family, but selfishly missing closer contact, especially after the night they had just spent.

 

As if reading her thoughts, John reached for her hand. As though to reassure and reaffirm, he interlaced his fingers with hers.

 

Lee Ma noticed the intimate touch, and a small smile came over her serene features. She stood and picked up the bowl she'd used to feed John, then, speaking a few more words of Cantonese, she left the room.

 

"Did I say, or do something? Why did she leave?" Meg felt alarmed that she might have somehow offended John's mother.

 

"Not at all," John soothed. "She just said she would come back after the poultice has cooled. She also said the Chinese equivalent of ‘three is a crowd'."

 

"I don't ever want your family to feel ill at ease--you'll tell me, won't you John, if I do anything to offend?" Meg pressed, not quite sure she should take his assurances at face value.

 

He drew her hand to his lips, kissing her fingertips, abashing her yet again with the freeness of his affection. "Of course. Liu Shen and Lee Ma like you, very much, don't worry. Ma was telling me as you came into the room from your shower how grateful she is to you and how much she likes you."

 

"I keep hearing her say something that sounds like ‘tie-tie'. What does that mean? Is she referring to me somehow?" Meg asked, her curiosity finally defeating her caution.

 

John glanced down, smiling a secret smile. " Taai-taai. It means wife. She is expressing that she feels you are one of the family, like a daughter in law. In China, family is most important. She means it as a compliment to you, a term of honor not of fact."

 

Meg was flabbergasted, uncertain at first how to respond. An unwelcome thought came to her. "She doesn't know--you didn't tell her... about last night."

 

"Some things a son does not confess to his mother the morning after." John responded dryly at first, then seeing dismay flash across Meg's features, he continued, soothingly, "Merely because even a mother has no right to know certain things about her children. She wouldn't be offended though, Meg. Don't worry."

 

Meg still wondered over the title Lee Ma had bestowed on her, making sense of the words in their context now. She had said Li Taai-taai. Wife of the family Li? John's wife? Not used to thinking of herself as anyone's anything, Meg was unsure how to feel, how to react. Morning after etiquette had never been taught in sex ed in high school. And her past dalliances hadn't usually gotten this far into the light of day.

 

And as for the question of the honorific--Meg wasn't sure she was respectable enough to be considered anyone's theoretical daughter-in-law. She still hadn't told John she loved him. She'd experienced precious little of that particular emotion growing up, had no good role models on which to base a knowledge and recognition of it. She had often wondered if she even possessed the basic capacity for the emotion.

 

And God help her, love was the one thing John deserved above all else. That and a peaceful, happy future, the chance to put the life he had led in what amounted to indentured servitude behind him.

 

Most of all John deserved someone who could love and treasure him, be his comfort and solace. In essence, he deserved someone far worthier than Meg Coburn.

 

John watched the emotions play on Meg's face, dismayed at the strange, faraway look that came over her. He had thought to offer her an alternate translation of his mother's honorific, afraid of just this very thing. Too much, too soon, even for so little a matter.

 

He had spent six months coming to realize that he loved Meg--that his life would never be complete without her in it, and that he did not care to live, if it meant living without her at his side. Being wounded had crystalized those feelings, made the need to get back to her urgent.

 

In making love to her the night before, he had sought to communicate to her his need for her, his desire, his commitment, to bind her to him with an unbreakable bond. Waking this morning, he felt he had.

 

Yet he also knew that in spite of her bluff and bravado that Meg was fragile. What little she had told him of her background, in those few days together in shared purpose in February, had informed him of so much about her that he had, at first, found mystifying. He'd had months to consider, to ponder, to try understand her.

 

And to strategize the most important battle of his life, the winning of Meg's heart.

 

Looking at her now, he knew the battle would be difficult, the care he must take exquisite. He was impatient with the weakness of his body. He wanted to prove to Meg how much she was cherished. Bringing her breakfast in bed this morning would have been a good beginning. But his body had betrayed him, leaving him weak and helpless, creating stress and worry for the one person he wished more than anything to comfort and calm.

 

She was withdrawing into herself, in front of his very eyes, pulling her defenses back around herself like a coat of armor. Unwilling to allow it, he moved to draw her closer. She hesitated for a moment, then yielded to his gentle insistence.

 

He drew her head to his good shoulder, stroking her still damp hair. Their positioning was such that her face was turned away from him, but he endeavored to communicate with touch, what seemed beyond her ability to fathom in words.

 

Betrayed once more by his weakened body, he drifted off to sleep, his mind as uneasy as his resolve was strong.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 6: KNIFE OVER THE HEART

 

Meg stood watching John sleep. His slumber was deep. She'd moved out of his arms without waking him, and he'd even slept through the subsequent redressing of his wound, after Lee Ma had removed the cooled poultice.

 

Meg was grateful, knowing that rest was his salvation at this point, the surest path to healing his traumatized body.

 

There was peace in watching him like this, a return of the comfort she'd known with his return, that had grown with their love making. For the moment she was content to ignore the nagging thoughts and doubts and take pleasure in his proximity.

 

But they would return, she knew, to plague her anew.

 

Meg was angry at herself for the sudden loss of confidence she'd felt, triggered, unfathomably, by the simple revelation of Lee Ma's honorific. She'd been on her own, basically since she'd run away from her foster placement late in her fifteenth year. She'd always been proud of the fact that while she had lived outside of the law and almost entirely by her wits, she'd not fallen into the traps so many other young runaways did. She'd forged a life for herself, prided her ability to survive, worn her independence as a badge of honor. She'd needed no one but herself--and been proud of the fact.

 

Six months ago, John Lee had changed that, just by virtue of walking into her life and complicating it.

 

That both of them had long lived by their wits and intelligence created a common ground between them, a natural affinity that had quickly formed itself into an amazing partnership. Short lived as it had been, it had fundamentally changed who she was. The woman who had never cared for much of anything or any one beyond herself had been transformed. Seeing John hellbent on a suicidal mission to even the score with Terence Wei, she had abandoned her own finely honed sense of self preservation to fight at his side. Against all the odds--and what she had sensed John's original intent: to pay for his sins with his life even as he ended Wei's--they had both survived.

 

Watching him go back to China had been another kind of death, although she had understood and genuinely endorsed it. The life of troubled emotions she'd led since his departure had been foreign to her, the war she waged with herself everyday something she had not anticipated.

 

She used to know who she was and what she wanted. Now... Now all she knew was that she was suddenly a raw nerve, unsure of everything.

 

Was this what love was?

 

She'd given herself to him last night freely, and even in the cold light of day, she had no regrets whatsoever about their lovemaking. In fact she had to admit to herself that the act had--conversely--both assuaged and sharpened a hunger she'd not been able to admit to herself before. She wanted to be his every night, wanted to draw comfort and solace from their intimacy, as well as to give it in return.

 

She felt restless, lightheaded, vaguely nauseous. Had the sudden desire to escape into open air.

 

Meg turned away, walking back into the small utilitarian kitchen, where Lee Ma and Liu Shen sat quietly eating.

 

"I have to go out," Meg announced impulsively, even though two minutes ago she had had no such intention. "I'm going to take John's suit to the dry cleaners, and look for a sling for his arm. Get some things...I"ll be back after a while." She'd invented the errands on the fly, not having any such intention just a minute ago.

 

She wanted to move but found she was incapable. The room was spinning around her. She grabbed onto the freestanding cabinet between the kitchen and her small table to steady herself. Black dots dancing before her eyes.

 

Meg became aware of the fact that the Lee women were regarding her in concerned silence. Liu Shen and her mother exchanged a look, the younger woman rising and walking over to stand by her. Liu Shen put a steadying arm around her.

 

"You are so pale! Are you well? I think it is your turn to eat and rest, Meg Coburn. I fear you are compromising your health taking such good care of us, of Jian." The young woman commented worriedly, looking at Meg carefully, "I wish I knew this city so that I could go in your place. Surely the cleaning and sling can wait--at least until tomorrow?"

 

Meg realized she couldn't remember the last time she'd eaten--she'd been far more concerned with the well-being of John and his family than her own comfort. And it was true that she was short on sleep.

 

"I'm fine. I always keep irregular hours and catch meals as I can."

 

Lee Ma, who had been listening intently to the conversation between the two younger women, put her own dish aside and moved to the stove. Before Meg could protest, she had served up a plate full of food. She gestured Meg to the table.

 

"Come," the older woman said in heavily accented English. "Eat, Li taai-taai."

 

There the words were again, searing into her soul, wrenching her heart, quite overthrowing her surprise at Lee Ma's direct communication. The power a few syllables of Chinese had over her emotional equilibrium was troubling. She did not understand her reaction.

 

Meg felt tears burning at the back of her eyes, it took all the force of her will to keep them from forming.

 

Liu Shen's hand was in hers, leading her to the table and urging her to sit. Lee Ma and her daughter commenced fussing over her as though she were a cherished, long time member of their family. Meg was nonplussed at the attention--as unused as she was to such unselfconscious human kindness.

 

"I will sit with Jian while you eat," Liu Shen soothed, "then you must lie down and try to rest. Our coming has been too much for you. Tomorrow I will go with you on your errands and begin to learn this city, so that the next time perhaps I can repay your kindness by doing these things in your stead."

 

Meg glanced down at the food on her plate, then up into Liu Shen's soulful brown eyes, so much like her brother's. Reflected in their depths, Meg found an answer to what she was feeling. She'd always been good in a crisis, doing what needed to be done calmly and capably. Once a crisis was past, she'd often fallen apart. In private, alone and angry. John was getting better now, and it was time to pay the piper.

 

The tears she'd fought so hard to suppress sprang unbidden to her eyes and she did the one thing she hated like hell to ever do.

 

She broke down, sobbing as though her heart would break. This brought a flurry of attention from the Lee women, who enfolded her in their arms, murmuring words of comfort in two languages. They stroked her face, her hair, her arms, patted her back, their touch infinitely gentle, soothing, loving. comforting.

 

To those who have seldom known it sometimes kindness is a sword cutting deep into natural defenses. Meg Coburn was no exception.

 

It was quite a while before she was composed enough to eat.

 

Liu Shen sat at Meg's side, stroking the lax hand that dangled off the side of the bed. Quite against the young woman's objections, John's sister had urged her back into her bedroom and to the half of the bed unoccupied by her brother.

 

Drained by her emotional breakdown, and--John's sister knew--the cumulative effect of six months of worry as well as the shock of their unexpected arrival, Meg had fallen into an uneasy slumber. Liu Shen had covered her with a throw and settled herself down to keep watch.

 

Jian was still sleeping soundly. He was making steady progress.

 

And in the way of the strong, Meg had paid a price in equilibrium and strength that even she did was not aware of, until the immediate crisis was past. Lee Ma had slipped a nerve calming tincture into the tea she had urged on Meg during her meal, hopefully it would undo some of the damage done, help their benefactor regain her balance.

 

Liu Shen understood nerve storms only too well, felt immense empathy for the woman her brother loved. Meg was a strong woman, but that did not mean that she was without her limits of endurance.

 

Looking at the two, her brother and Meg, Liu Shen could not help but smile. They belonged together. She'd known that ever since Jian had come back to them, in Canton.

 

Her normally reserved and taciturn brother had waxed effusive and enthusiastic when he spoke of the mysterious Meg Coburn who had made it possible for him to return to his family. It had thrilled Liu Shen to draw Jian out, to see the transformation he underwent when he talked about her. She had spent most of her life marking the changes in her sibling, so few of them for the better. His disarming smile--a rare feature for longer than she cared to remember--had returned in full glory when he spoke of his Meg.

 

He had, it seemed, fulfilled one of his sister's dearest wishes for him during what had seemed a hopeless, soul killing time. He had found someone he could love.

 

Liu Shen had regretted deeply that their escape from China could not have been accomplished immediately--for each delay had taken a toll on her brother. He had found his heart, and had been forced to leave it behind, all at the same time. She suspected that the same had been true for Meg. And she had not had the distraction of family to occupy her mind and energy.

 

Liu Shen's fervent hope was that now that they were together everything would work itself out. Above all else, as part of the debt she felt she owed John, she wanted him to be happy. He deserved no less for all the sacrifices he had made on behalf of his family.

 

Liu Shen's reverie was interrupted by the sound of her brother's voice, speaking softly in Cantonese.

 

"&lt;Sister, what is wrong with Meg?&gt;"

 

Liu Shen looked up and met her brother's eyes. He was taking in the picture of Meg sprawled out on the bed, his brow furrowed, worry and alarm plain on his face.

 

He wasn't supposed to be awake. Had the tumult in Meg's soul somehow communicated itself to him as he slept? Liu Shen believed such things were possible between soul mates. Jian and Meg were certainly that.

 

It was little use to dissemble, she'd never been able to keep much from her brother.

 

"&lt;She was a little ill--had not eaten in too long for worry about you. I convinced her to rest. She will be fine, &gt;" Liu Shen responded in a whisper, letting go of Meg's hand. She stood watching, reassuring herself that their benefactor's rest was undisturbed before moving to her brother's side of the bed. She sat herself down beside him. "&lt;You should be sleeping. I will watch over your Meg for you. Rest.&gt;"

 

"&lt;You made her eat then? And it is nothing more than that?&gt;" John ignored her advice, as he often did, pressing forward with his concerns.

 

"&lt;Yes. Ma and I made her eat a good meal. Ma gave her medicine to facilitate sleep. I think the surprise of our arrival proved a bit much for her is all. It would have been for anyone, given the circumstances.&gt;"

 

John took his eyes from their study of Liu Shen and looked at Meg, the tenderness in his gaze so evident that Liu Shen was awed by it. "&lt;I always overturn her life. This hasn't gone as I would have liked. I wanted this time to be different,&gt;" he commented sadly.

 

"&lt;It has gone as it was meant to. She will be fine. She's very strong, but even the strong need their rest and respite. I'll keep an eye on her for you. &gt;" Liu Shen soothed.

 

John forced his eyes away from Meg and looked at his sister fondly, "&lt;When did you grow so wise, sister?&gt;"

 

Liu Shen shrugged. "&lt;Go back to sleep!&gt;."

 

"&lt;No,&gt;" John said, "&lt;Please call our mother...And I need clothes from our luggage.&gt;"

 

Liu Shen's eyebrows drew together, "&lt;What for?&gt;" She already had a good idea what he was going to say next.

 

"&lt; I feel much improved, I must get up. There is too much to do to languish any longer.&gt;"

 

"&lt;Li Jian-Hui!&gt;" Liu Shen exclaimed as forcefully as she could without waking Meg using his full Chinese name, "&lt;it has not been very long since you collapsed in the alley! You are ill! You will stay where you are and recuperate!&gt;" she argued.

 

"&lt;I have been injured worse than this. Sicker than this many a time. I know what I can do and what I must do. If you do not help me, I will move from this bed by myself. If I must crawl, I will. But I will get up.&gt;" John's eyes took on a dark cast that she had seen only rarely, his expression communicating clearly that he would brook no opposition. It was the face of the man he had become, not the man he was.

 

Liu Shen did not fear the transformation. But she respected it. She controlled the urge to yell at him, instead channeling her frustration and anger into a quite unladylike gesture, very Chinese in its execution, but one that might easily be universally understood. She stood up and stalked to where John's bag had been thrown the night before. Returning to the bed, she plopped it down across his legs, then stalked off to the kitchen.

 

If Meg hadn't been sleeping in the same room, she would have let loose with a stream of Cantonese invective that might have peeled the paint from the walls.

 

But she knew that in a match of Li temperament, there would be no clear winner. So instead she summoned her mother, and together they helped John dress and rise.

 

Meg came to consciousness with the distinct feeling that someone had played a trick on her. She hadn't been the least bit tired before she ate-- within a few minutes of finishing the meal and arguing with John's sister, the lights had faded out.

 

"Someone slipped me a mickey!" she said aloud, to no one in particular.

 

"Excuse me?" the quiet response mystified her. Unless someone had flipped her 90 degrees while she slept, the voice she recognized came from quite the wrong direction, "A mickey'?"

 

"John??" Meg opened her eyes and sat up abruptly, trying to make sense of what was making no sense. Her eyes fell on John, sitting close beside the bed in one of the chairs she generally kept in her office area. He was dressed--not Armani this time, but an equally impressive label she was sure-- his arm in a sling fashioned from one of her bath sheets.

 

"What the hell?!" Meg blinked, trying to make sure that whatever had knocked her out hadn't played hob with her perception. She twisted, looking at the empty side of the bed, then bringing her eyes back to meet his, flashing in anger, "What the hell are you doing?! Did I sleep for a week or are you insane?"

 

John Lee was regarding her with that damned implacable expression again, the one that revealed nothing, no matter how long you studied it. While she was studying it, she made note of his coloring--remarkably good amazingly enough.

 

"You've been sleeping a few hours only. And I've been called many things, but never insane."

 

"Yeah, well, how else do you describe someone who doesn't do what he's told? Christ, John! Bad enough you flew over an entire ocean with a hole in your shoulder that a flight attendant could have passed a drink through. Never mind you were unconscious and delirious for two days. What the HELL do you have against taking care of yourself?!"

 

Meg swung her legs off the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. She leaned forward. As much as she loved this man, there were times when she could cheerfully strangle him!

 

The thought brought her up short. Had she just admitted to herself that she loved John Lee?

 

"Nothing, Meg. Please, enlighten me. What is a ‘mickey'?" John asked ingenuously. He was a past master at changing the subject.

 

"A mickey," Meg announced, "short for a Mickey Fin'. A beverage into which SOMEONE has put a narcotic substance designed to render the drinker unconscious." She tossed the emphasized word to the apartment at large, hoping that John's family was within earshot. "And STOP changing the subject!"

 

"Inactivity," John replied, "increases weakness, it does not cure it. I am feeling fit, Meg, It was time to get out of the bed."

 

"Thank you, Dr. Lee, for that cogent prognostic assessment. I trust you had help, since the last time you tried it--not that long ago, I might mention--you ended up flat on your ass on the floor? You're probably delirious again, what's your family's excuse?"

 

"They cursed me and yelled at me, just as you are doing now. I gave them no choice. If you must be angry, be angry at me. And I am not delirious."

 

Meg sighed. He was impossible to argue with to any satisfying degree. Especially not when he sat there, looking devastatingly handsome and surprisingly healthy. The sling gave him a rather rakish air, and the clothing he had donned, though somewhat overstated for sitting around her apartment, hung well in all the right places.

 

"Okay. Okay." Meg mumbled, putting her face in her hands for a few moments, "I give up. But I reserve the right to say I told you so when you end up flat on your back and as sick as a dog again."

 

"Understood," John said equably, "How are you, Meg?"

 

He was leaning slightly forward in the chair, looking at her with such concern that she was momentarily caught off guard.

 

"I'm fine. I'm not the one who was shot, remember? I didn't willingly decide to take a nap in the middle of the day, either."

 

John looked at her intently, "Liu Shen said that you were ill from lack of food, that you went pale and seemed ready to faint. I am concerned about you."

 

Either Liu Shen hadn't told him about the crying jag, or he was choosing not to mention it. She wished she knew which. It was bad enough that Lee Ma and Liu Shen had witnessed it. She didn't want John to know she'd been that weak.

 

"No need to be, John. I'm as healthy as a horse. What with all the excitement in the last few days--wonder whose fault that was?--I forgot to eat. I do that sometimes. Go too long without eating. It catches up with me. I nibble on a little something and I'm fine. No worries."

 

"No wonder you've grown so thin," John said looking at her with a kind of aching empathy.

 

"I'll take that as all women do--as a compliment. You don't look like you've been eating regular meals yourself."

 

"We always seemed to be on the move, these last months. And sometimes provisions were difficult to obtain." John said quietly.

 

"And knowing you, you made sure your sister and mother ate their fill before you did. We're going to put some meat back on those bones, mister." Meg vowed.

 

John smiled a smile that did not reach his eyes. "I bring nothing but disruption to your life. I am so sorry, Meg. I had wanted this to be very different."

 

Meg reached out to touch his knee, "Life is disruption, John. I'm just glad you're back and alive. I'm not sorry about how this played out."

 

John looked at her intently for a moment, finally leaning back in the chair, his left hand going to his right arm, as though the shift in position had caused a jolt of pain.

 

Meg eased off the bed, kneeling before him, reaching out to touch his right hand, "Have you tried moving it?" she asked, noting that his right hand was warm, revealing good blood flow, which was a good sign. Shoulder wounds could result in permanent damage to the complex structures of blood vessels, muscles and nerve bundles, it wrenched her heart to think of John being in any way disabled by his injury.

 

John grimaced, concentrating on flexing his right hand. His fingers clenched spasmodically.

 

Meg beamed, "That's wonderful!" Not quite the movement she'd envisioned, fine motor skills would take some time to regain, obviously. But it was heartening that he could move any part of the arm at all. He'd been lucky.

 

He was going to be all right, she felt it in her bones. He wasn't as well as he thought he was, she knew. But he was better, and there was hope.

 

Meg leaned forward. This time she took the initiative, drawing John's head down until their lips touched. She kissed him deeply.

 

She did love him. She knew that now.

 

She would worry about what to do about that later.

 

For all his bravado, and several attempts at walking unaided, John was still unsteady on his feet.

 

The toll that stubbornness was taking on his energy had Meg and the Lee women at wits end.

 

It took the combined efforts of the three of them to get John to sit down and relax, preparatory to the evening meal.

 

"I must go out," John announced by way of quiet rebellion.

 

"I don't know about that. You're rushing things too much. Sitting in a chair is fine, but I don't think you're ready to run any marathons." Meg commented reasonably. Lee Ma and Liu Shen said nothing, but shook their heads in frustration over his recalcitrance.

 

"I had made plans, before leaving China. I must tend to them before any more time has passed." John looked at her, his dark eyes hooded.

 

Meg returned his gaze forthrightly, knowing an argument would be futile, if rather enjoyable. So she kept her voice equable and carefully modulated. "Is whatever you need to do something I can take care of for you?"

 

John gave her a small smile, "No. There are some financial matters... And other things. I must do them myself."

 

"Alone I suppose," Meg challenged.

 

"That would be preferable." John admitted.

 

"Well, I'll tell you right now that that isn't going to happen. If the last couple of hours haven't proved to you that you aren't ready to do anything or go anywhere by yourself, you ARE delusional. And apparently you don't trust me to help handle your affairs."

 

"Meg," John was exasperated and stricken by turns, "you are the one I do trust. Never doubt that. These are things that require my presence to be done."

 

"I hope whatever you are doing, you don't need to sign any papers--its going to be a while before your right hand can hold a pen. I know you can shoot guns with both hands--but can you write with both?" Meg kept up her battle of logic

 

"No," John admitted, "I still need to be present. You cannot go alone."

 

"And neither can you. So where does that leave us? Look John, I know how frustrated you must be feeling right now. But trust me when I say that you are in no shape to go anywhere today. And possibly not tomorrow. Maybe the day after that. You HAVE to give yourself time to recuperate. Your mother and sister and I have not gone through what we have to keep you alive just to watch you push yourself back to the point of collapse."

 

John sighed. "I can wait no longer than tomorrow to begin. If I rest tonight will my beautiful ladies allow me to make the attempt tomorrow?" Logic having failed him, John was now switching on his not inconsiderable charm.

 

Meg suppressed a smile of triumph. They had reached a compromise.

 

"Only if you take all three of us along." Meg countered.

 

"Only you. My mother and sister do not have to be plagued by the business. They should be able to relax and enjoy themselves, not run errands with me."

 

"Don't even go there, John. And I'm not leaving without reinforcements. When--and I say when, not if--you fall flat on your ass again because you aren't ready to be up and gallivanting around, I'm going to need someone to help me throw you back in the car and bring you home. We all go, or none of us do."

 

"You have a car?" John asked, eyes brightening. His next question would be to ask where she kept the keys, Meg was sure.

 

"Don't even think about it! Yes, I have a car. I used some of that money you sent to buy a good used one. I'm trying not to flagrantly break the law by boosting rides whenever I need to go anywhere. Zeedo's patience can only stretch so far." Meg paused, "And don't even think about trying to find out where I hide the keys and going off by yourself. You'd never find it."

 

John appeared to ponder her words for a moment, then nodded. "I agree. We all go. Tomorrow."

 

Meg watched as Chinese male pride yielded to the inevitable, "Great! Now, you're going to eat a good meal, and then it is back to bed for you."

 

John gave a slight grimace, then agreed.

 

Meg traded looks of quiet triumph with Liu Shen and Lee Ma, then they all set about preparing a meal.

 

John was no sooner settled down in bed than he fell asleep, his overexertion of the last few hours catching up with him.

 

Meg spent several hours in discussion with his mother and sister, during which the Lee women complimented her--Liu Shen directly and Lee Ma via translation--on her masterful handling of the situation with John.

 

Meg took no pleasure in her victory, but accepted the compliments sincerely and steered the conversation to a discussion of John as he had been as a child and young man. She was entranced by the picture that formed before her as she saw the man she loved through his family's eyes.

 

Her head buzzed with new knowledge as she prepared herself for sleep, having seen Lee Ma and Liu Shen settled down in their bed. She felt even more close to him now, knowing what his favorite food had been as a child. That he'd been a good student as a teenager and planned to go to college before the Cultural Revolution had started and he had been given the choice of reeducation deep in the countryside, or induction into the army. The beginning of his destruction, she now saw, the events leading eventually to servitude to Wei.

 

Meg eased herself under the covers beside John, and careful not to wake him, cuddled close, reveling once again in mere proximity to this mysterious man who had entered her life and transformed it.

 

Meg woke the next morning to find John up, dressed and moving around her apartment. He seemed, when she rose, dressed and sat studying him, to be tolerating movement better and was steadier on his feet than the day before. How much of that was through sheer force of will and how much real improvement she did not know.

 

She would watch him carefully.

 

When finally everyone was up and ready to go, Meg took a deep breath and forced herself to be calmly supportive of John's wishes, at the same time attuning herself to every nuance of his physical presence and condition.

 

She guided John, Liu Shen and Lee Ma to the freight elevator once more, than dashed down the staircase of the building and into the street. She strode purposefully the block and a half to the parking structure she had a permanent space in, slid behind the wheel of her car and made the quick dash to back to her apartment building. John, Liu Shen and Lee Ma were just making their way to the curb when she pulled up in front of them. She hopped out of the car and joined them for the last few yards.

 

Meg watched John carefully, putting her arm around his waist and sticking to his side like glue. Liu Shen bookended Meg on his other side, while Lee Ma trailed behind after surrendering her place to Meg, shooting her son disapproving looks that she knew he could not see.

 

Walking was a somewhat slow process, but John proved steady on his legs.

 

Still, when Meg eased him into the passenger seat of her four door sedan, he gave a small grunt and expelled a lungful of air.

 

"Let that be a lesson to you." Meg warned, clicking the seat belt around him, positioning the webbing so that it did not rub against the wounded shoulder.

 

Meg watched as Liu Shen and Lee Ma climbed into the car, glad that she had opted for a four door car instead of a two door. Four doors were easier to heft computers in and out of when necessary, which had been her original reason for wanting one. She could never have dreamed she'd be thankful for the reason she was.

 

Meg could not know that their progress was being watched by interested eyes, stationed atop a nearby building.

 

She pulled the car onto the street and into traffic before she spoke again.

 

"I'm making a stop at the drugstore to get proper sling for your arm--it is just up here a ways. Where do we head after that?"

 

John rattled off an address noted for its upscale condominiums. Meg's eyebrows rose.

 

"I thought you had financial business? We aren't going to a bank?" she asked.

 

"Later," John explained. "There is something I must pick up first."

 

Meg mulled over that information for a moment, then pulled the car over to the curb in front of the drug store, the same one she'd gotten medical supplies from just two days before.

 

She'd made a mental note to pick up more dressing material. She'd insisted, as part of conditions of his leaving her apartment, that John allow her to change his dressings again and swallow a dose of antibiotics and ibuprofen. She'd been relieved to note that the wound was draining properly, the infection appearing to be well on its way to abating, and that his exertions had not resulted in any new bleeding.

 

Meg was in and out of the store in less than ten minutes. She returned to the car, which was parked with the passenger side to the curb, and took the few minutes necessary to remove the bath towel and place the newly purchased sling to cradle John's wounded arm. She also used the activity as an opportunity to study him closely, to make sure that he was holding up well under the increased activity.

 

So far so good.

 

She didn't see the nondescript car which pulled away from the curb as she did and followed at a discreet distance.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 7: TENACIOUS SPIRIT

 

Meg swung her legs off the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. She leaned forward. As much as she loved this man, there were times when she could cheerfully strangle him!

 

The thought brought her up short. Had she just admitted to herself that she loved John Lee?

 

"Nothing, Meg. Please, enlighten me. What is a mickey'?" John asked ingenuously. He was a past master at changing the subject.

 

"A mickey," Meg announced, "short for a Mickey Fin'. A beverage into which SOMEONE has put a narcotic substance designed to render the drinker unconscious." She tossed the emphasized word to the apartment at large, hoping that John's family was within earshot. "And STOP changing the subject!"

 

"Inactivity," John replied, "increases weakness, it does not cure it. I am feeling fit, Meg, It was time to get out of the bed."

 

"Thank you, Dr. Lee, for that cogent prognostic assessment. I trust you had help, since the last time you tried it--not that long ago, I might mention--you ended up flat on your ass on the floor? You're probably delirious again, what's your family's excuse?"

 

"They cursed me and yelled at me, just as you are doing now. I gave them no choice. If you must be angry, be angry at me. And I am not delirious."

 

Meg sighed. He was impossible to argue with to any satisfying degree. Especially not when he sat there, looking devastatingly handsome and surprisingly healthy. The sling gave him a rather rakish air, and the clothing he had donned, though somewhat overstated for sitting around her apartment, hung well in all the right places.

 

"Okay. Okay." Meg mumbled, putting her face in her hands for a few moments, "I give up. But I reserve the right to say I told you so when you end up flat on your back and as sick as a dog again."

 

"Understood," John said equably, "How are you, Meg?"

 

He was leaning slightly forward in the chair, looking at her with such concern that she was momentarily caught off guard.

 

"I'm fine. I'm not the one who was shot, remember? I didn't willingly decide to take a nap in the middle of the day, either."

 

John looked at her intently, "Liu Shen said that you were ill from lack of food, that you went pale and seemed ready to faint. I am concerned about you."

 

Either Liu Shen hadn't told him about the crying jag, or he was choosing not to mention it. She wished she knew which. It was bad enough that Lee Ma and Liu Shen had witnessed it. She didn't want John to know she'd been that weak.

 

"No need to be, John. I'm as healthy as a horse. What with all the excitement in the last few days--wonder whose fault that was?--I forgot to eat. I do that sometimes. Go too long without eating. It catches up with me. I nibble on a little something and I'm fine. No worries."

 

"No wonder you've grown so thin," John said looking at her with a kind of aching empathy.

 

"I'll take that as all women do--as a compliment. You don't look like you've been eating regular meals yourself."

 

"We always seemed to be on the move, these last months. And sometimes provisions were difficult to obtain." John said quietly.

 

"And knowing you, you made sure your sister and mother ate their fill before you did. We're going to put some meat back on those bones, mister." Meg vowed.

 

John smiled a smile that did not reach his eyes. "I bring nothing but disruption to your life. I am so sorry, Meg. I had wanted this to be very different."

 

Meg reached out to touch his knee, "Life is disruption, John. I'm just glad you're back and alive. I'm not sorry about how this played out."

 

John looked at her intently for a moment, finally leaning back in the chair, his left hand going to his right arm, as though the shift in position had caused a jolt of pain.

 

Meg eased off the bed, kneeling before him, reaching out to touch his right hand, "Have you tried moving it?" she asked, noting that his right hand was warm, revealing good blood flow, which was a good sign. Shoulder wounds could result in permanent damage to the complex structures of blood vessels, muscles and nerve bundles, it wrenched her heart to think of John being in any way disabled by his injury.

 

John grimaced, concentrating on flexing his right hand. His fingers clenched spasmodically.

 

Meg beamed, "That's wonderful!" Not quite the movement she'd envisioned, fine motor skills would take some time to regain, obviously. But it was heartening that he could move any part of the arm at all. He'd been lucky.

 

He was going to be all right, she felt it in her bones. He wasn't as well as he thought he was, she knew. But he was better, and there was hope.

 

Meg leaned forward. This time she took the initiative, drawing John's head down until their lips touched. She kissed him deeply.

 

She did love him. She knew that now.

 

She would worry about what to do about that later.

 

For all his bravado, and several attempts at walking unaided, John was still unsteady on his feet. The toll that stubbornness was taking on his energy had Meg and the Lee women at wits end. It took the combined efforts of the three of them to get John to sit down and relax, preparatory to the evening meal.

 

"I must go out," John announced by way of quiet rebellion.

 

"I don't know about that. You're rushing things too much. Sitting in a chair is fine, but I don't think you're ready to run any marathons." Meg commented reasonably. Lee Ma and Liu Shen said nothing, but shook their heads in frustration over his recalcitrance.

 

"I had made plans, before leaving China. I must tend to them before any more time has passed." John looked at her, his dark eyes hooded.

 

Meg returned his gaze forthrightly, knowing an argument would be futile, if rather enjoyable. So she kept her voice equable and carefully modulated. "Is whatever you need to do something I can take care of for you?"

 

John gave her a small smile, "No. There are some financial matters... And other things. I must do them myself."

 

"Alone I suppose," Meg challenged.

 

"That would be preferable." John admitted.

 

"Well, I'll tell you right now that that isn't going to happen. If the last couple of hours haven't proved to you that you aren't ready to do anything or go anywhere by yourself, you ARE delusional. And apparently you don't trust me to help handle your affairs."

 

"Meg," John was exasperated and stricken by turns, "you are the one I do trust. Never doubt that. These are things that require my presence to be done."

 

"I hope whatever you are doing, you don't need to sign any papers--its going to be a while before your right hand can hold a pen. I know you can shoot guns with both hands--but can you write with both?" Meg kept up her battle of logic

 

"No," John admitted, "I still need to be present. You cannot go alone."

 

"And neither can you. So where does that leave us? Look John, I know how frustrated you must be feeling right now. But trust me when I say that you are in no shape to go anywhere today. And possibly not tomorrow. Maybe the day after that. You HAVE to give yourself time to recuperate. Your mother and sister and I have not gone through what we have to keep you alive just to watch you push yourself back to the point of collapse."

 

John sighed. "I can wait no longer than tomorrow to begin. If I rest tonight will my beautiful ladies allow me to make the attempt tomorrow?" Logic having failed him, John was now switching on his not inconsiderable charm.

 

Meg suppressed a smile of triumph. They had reached a compromise.

 

"Only if you take all three of us along." Meg countered.

 

"Only you. My mother and sister do not have to be plagued by the business. They should be able to relax and enjoy themselves, not run errands with me.

 

"Don't even go there, John. And I'm not leaving without reinforcements. When--and I say when, not if--you fall flat on your ass again because you aren't ready to be up and gallivanting around, I'm going to need someone to help me throw you back in the car and bring you home. We all go, or none of us do."

 

"You have a car?" John asked, eyes brightening. His next question would be to ask where she kept the keys, Meg was sure.

 

"Don't even think about it! Yes, I have a car. I used some of that money you sent to buy a good used one. I'm trying not to flagrantly break the law by boosting rides whenever I need to go anywhere. Zeedo's patience can only stretch so far." Meg paused, "And don't even think about trying to find out where I hide the keys and going off by yourself. You'd never find it."

 

John appeared to ponder her words for a moment, then nodded. "I agree. We all go. Tomorrow."

 

Meg watched as Chinese male pride yielded to the inevitable, "Great! Now, you're going to eat a good meal, and then it is back to bed for you." John gave a slight grimace, then agreed.

 

Meg traded looks of quiet triumph with Liu Shen and Lee Ma, then they all set about preparing a meal.

 

John was no sooner settled down in bed than he fell asleep, his overexertion of the last few hours, catching up with him.

 

Meg spent several hours in discussion with his mother and sister, during which the Lee women complimented her--Liu Shen directly and Lee Ma via translation--on her masterful handling of the situation with John.

 

Meg took no pleasure in her victory, but accepted the compliments sincerely and steered the conversation to a discussion of John as he had been as a child and young man. She was entranced by the picture that formed before her as she saw the man she loved through his family's eyes.

 

Her head buzzed with new knowledge as she prepared herself for sleep, having seen Lee Ma and Liu Shen settled down in their bed. She felt even more close to him now, knowing what his favorite food had been as a child. That he'd been a good student as a teenager and had planned to start college before the Cultural Revolution had started and he had been given the choice of reeducation deep in the countryside, or induction into the army. The beginning of his destruction, she now saw, the events leading eventually to servitude to Wei.

 

Meg eased herself under the covers beside John, and careful not to wake him, cuddled close, reveling once again in mere proximity to this mysterious man who had entered her life and transformed it.

 

Meg woke the next morning to find John up, dressed and moving around her apartment. He seemed, when she rose, dressed and sat studying him, to be tolerating movement better and was steadier on his feet than the day before. How much of that was through sheer force of will and how much real improvement she did not know.

 

She would watch him carefully.

 

When finally everyone was up and ready to go, Meg took a deep breath and forced herself to be calmly supportive of John's wishes, at the same time attuning herself to every nuance of his physical presence and condition.

 

She guided John, Liu Shen and Lee Ma to the freight elevator once more, than dashed down the staircase of the building and into the street. She strode purposefully the block and a half to the parking structure she had a permanent space in, slid behind the wheel of her car and made the quick dash to back to her apartment building. John, Liu Shen and Lee Ma were just making their way to the curb when she pulled up in front of them. She hopped out of the car and joined them for the last few yards.

 

Meg watched John carefully, putting her arm around his waist and sticking to his side like glue. Liu Shen bookended Meg on his other side, while Lee Ma trailed behind after surrendering her place to Meg, shooting her son disapproving looks that she knew he could not see. .

 

Walking was a somewhat slow process, but John proved steady on his legs.

 

Still, when Meg eased him into the passenger seat of her four door sedan, he gave a small grunt and expelled a lungful of air.

 

"Let that be a lesson to you." Meg warned, clicking the seat belt around him, positioning the webbing so that it did not rub against the wounded shoulder.

 

Meg watched as Liu Shen and Lee Ma climbed into the car, glad that she had opted for a four door car instead of a two door. Four doors were easier to heft computers in and out of when necessary, which had been her original reason for wanting one. She could never have dreamed she'd be thankful for the reason she was.

 

Meg could not know that their progress was being watched by interested eyes, stationed atop a nearby building.

 

She pulled the car onto the street and into traffic before she spoke again.

 

"I'm making a stop at the drugstore to get proper sling for your arm--it is just up here a ways. Where do we head after that?"

 

John rattled off an address noted for its upscale condominiums. Meg's eyebrows rose.

 

"I thought you had financial business? We aren't going to a bank?" she asked.

 

"Later," John explained. "There is something I must pick up first."

 

Meg mulled over that information for a moment, then pulled the car over to the curb in front of the drug store, the same one she'd gotten medical supplies from just the day before.

 

She'd made a mental note to pick up more dressing material. She'd insisted, as part of conditions of his leaving her apartment, that John allow her to change his dressings again and swallow a dose of antibiotics and ibuprofen. She'd been relieved to note that the wound was draining properly, the infection appearing to be well on its way to abating, and that his exertions had not resulted in any new bleeding.

 

Meg was in and out of the store in less than ten minutes. She returned to the car, which was parked with the passenger side to the curb, and took the few minutes necessary to remove the bath towel and place the newly purchased sling to cradle John's wounded arm. She also used the activity as an opportunity to study him closely, to make sure that he was holding up well under the increased activity.

 

So far so good.

 

She didn't see the nondescript car which pulled away from the curb as she did and followed at a discreet distance.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 8: A PEARL IN MUDDY WATER

 

They drove to the address John had given her in comparative silence, with Meg occasionally pointing out Los Angeles landmarks to Liu Shen and Lee Ma.

 

Approaching the building, Meg cast a quick glance upward at the ultra modern facade, recognizing it as one of those featured in the architectural section of a popular Los Angeles magazine some months ago. It was a swank address, one of the current "in" places to live.

 

"You know someone who lives here?" She asked, impressed.

 

"Yes," John replied. "You can pull into basement parking garage."

 

"In this beater? They don't let anything other than BMWs, Porsches and Jags in there, my friend."

 

John fumbled in his suit's right breast pocket with his left hand and withdrew a key card and handed it to her.

 

"Pass this through the mechanism at the entrance. You will not be challenged," he assured.

 

Meg's eyebrows crept up her forehead, but she said nothing.

 

John took back the keycard once they had passed into the parking structure, slipping it back into his pocket. He directed her to park in a numbered slot not far from a bank of elevators, then waited while she piled out and came to help him out of the car.

 

Between Meg, Lee Ma and Liu Shen, they were soon at the elevators. John fished the key card out of his pocket once more and used it on the elevator he'd come to stand before. Meg was finding it hard to contain herself, having expected that they would instead need to go to the lobby of the building and be buzzed in by whoever John was coming to see.

 

"You sure we don't need any firepower? " Meg asked, not bothering to inform John that as a precaution she had slipped her own .38 into her bag before leaving her apartment.

 

"No. We are perfectly safe."

 

Meg slowly realized that there was only one way that could be true, and the key card confirmed it. They weren't actually going to see anyone, the person that owned a unit in this building was none other than John himself.

 

Meg knew that John had lived in LA on and off for years, working for Mr. Wei, and naturally had to have had some sort of permanent accommodation to have done so. But somehow she hadn't associated him with a building like this, an address like this. She wasn't sure why, his wardrobe alone should have given her some indication that John's lifestyle had been more than comfortable during his tenure in this city.

 

They rose several floors, then the elevator stopped, the doors gliding open soundlessly. Meg plastered herself to John's side, her arm going around his waist to steady him, tossing a glance over her shoulder to see how their surroundings were affecting his mother and sister. Their faces, she noted, were impassive, but their eyes had grown large in wonderment.

 

The elevator opened into the foyer of loft space. Meg had heard of buildings with private elevators, but had never before in her life been in one. She looked at John in combination wonderment and awe.

 

John was doing the gentlemanly thing, standing back to allow his sister and mother to debark the elevator. Meg hung back with him, waving off his gesture to move in ahead of him. She kept her grip around his waist and they entered together.

 

The air that greeted them had the dead quality of any room not occupied for a long time. John paused to activate various lights in the condo at a master switch in the foyer.

 

The air stirred slightly, the stagnant quality seeming to begin to dissipate. Apparently the lights were keyed into environmental controls. Nice. Classy. Expensive.

 

Lee Ma and Liu Shen moved slowly out of the foyer and into the larger loft area beyond. As Meg watched, they took in their surroundings with nothing less than total awe.

 

It was an emotion that Meg soon joined them in experiencing. The unit was large, a split level with a curving staircase that rose to the balcony above, off which at least two rooms seemed to branch. Floor to ceiling windows opened up to a breathtaking view of the city. It was an elegant living space, its appointments giving the impression of richness without the pretension that she might have expected of the address.

 

In fact, the decor of the unit was understated and she realized, totally John. He was not, she knew, a person who reveled in ornamentation and ostentation. The decorating theme was quietly Chinese in flavor, but spare.

 

"Jesus, John. You own this and you came to my place?? I could have made a house call."

 

John had been silently watching his mother and sister explore the apartment. He looked at Meg and smiled, "I have good associations with your apartment."

 

"You're certifiable, you know that don't you? You almost got killed--and so did I--at my place."

 

"But it is where you live," he stated, as if that explained everything.

 

Meg looked at him for a long moment, "We should have brought your bags, this is definitely a place more worthy of your family than my dive is. Christ, John, I can't believe you took me to a flea bag hotel when we were on the run from Wei, if you owned a place like this in a security building."

 

"That was necessary at the time, if regrettable. You deserved far better." John replied. "There is no need to worry about not having brought our luggage, we are comfortable with you, unless you have grown tired of us."

 

Meg shot him a dirty look, "Don't be stupid. I told you you were welcome to stay on and I meant it. Though I still can't quite figure why you'd want to."

 

John made no answer except to plant a kiss on her right temple, which in itself, was an answer. She forced down the urge to blush furiously.

 

Meg tried to dampen her awe for her surroundings, choosing instead to note that John was looking pale. He needed to sit down and soon, or he was going to be on the floor.

 

She urged him to the elegant black leather couch that formed a border between the open arrangement of kitchen and living room, lowering herself to sit beside him. She watched as Lee Ma and Liu Shen ascended the stairway and explored the upstairs rooms, before turning her attention back to John.

 

"You look pale. This has already been too much for you," she commented.

 

"I'm fine, Meg. I will be all right in a few minutes." John said, pulling her close, until her head was on his left shoulder. "I should have thought to offer you the use of this place while I was in China."

 

"Are you kidding? This place would have intimidated the hell out of my clientele. But that was a lovely thought." Meg said dismissively. She cast a sweeping glance over the loft space, taking it in as a whole. "Its beautiful."

 

"When I bought this loft, I thought to bring my sister and mother over from China and they would live here. That was before the last job for Wei, which destroyed that plan. There was no time to arrange the sale of this unit after my default on that job. I dared not return before I left. I paid the management company to look after things for me."

 

"Did Wei's goons toss it looking for you?" Meg had noted no sign of damage, but then with a caretaker, anything broken or damaged might have been replaced or repaired in the months that followed.

 

"Our arrangement was that Wei did not know where I lived. I took extra precautions with the purchase, to hide the ownership so that it could not be traced. That was another reason I did not dare return here. You like it then?

 

"Very much," Meg admitted, thinking to herself that she liked it more for the insight it gave her into John than for its own sake. She was still pondering the statement he had made about mother and sister living here. He hadn't included himself in the equation. He truly hadn't planned to come back when he left.

 

"Then I will keep it," John said, "perhaps you will change your mind about living here."

 

Meg moved her head away from his shoulder, leaning one arm against the back of the couch as she twisted to look at his face. "But you will be moving to Seattle, you'd do better to sell this place and use the money to find something up north. From what I hear, real estate isn't cheap there either."

 

"I have other resources, I do not need to sell this place to afford another. Working for Mr. Wei was very lucrative, and I lived carefully on what I earned. Aside from this one extravagance. And I got in, how do you Americans say? 'On the ground floor of this deal'. Before the address became so desirable." John explained, looking deep into her eyes. "And it is my family who will live in Seattle. I never said that I would."

 

Meg was losing herself in his calm brown gaze, "But you're not safe here, John. Wei's gang may be gone, or they might not. In any case the police are still here. Zedkov promised me he destroyed the file he had on you--and he never knew your name, you know. But I don't know how far to trust him, really. You'd do better to make a fresh start in a new place," Meg replied.

 

"If I did, would you go with me?" John asked quietly.

 

Meg was taken a back. In all her musings about John, she'd never gotten that far, hadn't dared allow herself to dream.

 

"I don't know. I've always lived here, I don't know any place else. I haven't thought about it," she said lamely. She was ashamed that she was putting off the answer she knew he wanted to hear and which part of her wanted to say.

 

"Give it some thought," he responded, touching her cheek. "I don't want to be separated from you again, Meg."

 

Meg felt her breath constrict in her throat, unaccountably. She decided to head off a full blown panic attack by changing the subject.

 

Before she could speak, a voice from the balcony above accomplished the same end. John and Meg forced their eyes away from each other to look upwards.

 

Liu Shen was dangling a stylishly coordinated woman's suit over the railing from its hanger, "The closets in these rooms are full, brother!" She stated in wonderment.

 

"I promised you once that I would buy you new clothes when we came to America. Don't you remember?" John stated with indulgent amusement. "Go, try them on!"

 

Meg looked from Liu Shen back to John, as the younger woman disappeared from view, noting the look of pure pleasure on his face. He looked young, boyish in his enjoyment, the lines of worry and strain finally gone.

 

Meg spent a moment trying to imagine John shopping for women's clothes. Unable to reconcile the image, she decided finally that he had probably utilized a shopping service.

 

"What an incredibly thoughtful thing to do," Meg commented, unable to keep a smile from her own face as she saw the delight in his.

 

John looked at her, "My mother and sister have always had so little. And had to leave behind most of what they owned. It gave me pleasure to think of them having so many new things. But I worry that the clothing will be dated, fashions change so quickly in America."

 

"That suit was a classic. If the rest of the clothing is like that, don't worry. Classic cuts never go out of style." Meg responded.

 

They both listened to the distant sounds of lively Cantonese conversation and laughter as Liu Shen and her mother inspected their new wardrobes.

 

"Is this what you came here for?" Meg asked. Somehow she had her doubts, he'd not intended that his mother and sister accompany them for one thing. For another, the clothing, while necessary at some point, did not warrant rising out of sick bed to retrieve.

 

"No." John said, moving as though to rise. Meg put a hand on his chest, restraining him. When he looked at her, she traded a stern expression for an openly pleading one.

 

"John, whatever it is can either wait, or I can get it for you if you will tell me where to look. You really need to just sit here and relax for a while," she said firmly.

 

Amazingly, he capitulated with no argument.

 

"There, in that cabinet. A safe. " John gestured towards an elegant piece of furniture some five feet in front of them. It was shaped like a credenza, but in black lacquer finish with some elegant Chinese motif work, "The door to the left is a false front. Please."

 

Meg rose and walked over to the cabinet, pulling open the door as she knelt on the floor. As described, the door revealed the front of a safe. She looked back over her shoulder to John, who, on that cue, called out the combination.

 

Meg spun the dial according to his instructions, the safe door coming open with a snick after she gave the lock a final twist and applied pressure on the handle.

 

Inside, a gun and ammunition sat on top of several manila envelopes.

 

"Bring everything," John said as Meg's hand hovered for a moment.

 

She removed the contents of the safe, rose and brought them to John, laying the items in his lap.

 

Meg sat back down, waiting to be of further assistance, knowing that John would not be able to manage much one handed.

 

She watched as he slipped the gun and ammunition into his pocket, then lifted the first envelope up. Meg reached out and helped him open and withdraw the contents. Looking on in fascination as he laid them across his knees.

 

Immigration documents. Meg looked carefully at them, trying to determine, with her expert eye, if they were real or not. She could not detect any evidence they were anything other than genuine, noted that there was a set each for his sister and mother. She looked at John questioningly.

 

"Alan helped me. "When things went wrong with Wei I dared not come back to retrieve these. They are genuine. My mother and sister are legal immigrants. In time they can apply for citizenship," he said softly, his finger tracing the edge of the papers.

 

"What about you, were you able to do the same?"

 

John shook his head, "I am a more problematic case."

 

Meg nodded silently, realizing the impossibility of putting down "triad hit man" in the occupation line of the immigration forms.

 

John opened another manila envelope, Meg aiding him once again.

 

This time the contents revealed themselves as certificates of some kind. Intrigued in spite of herself, Meg leaned in to inspect them more carefully.

 

Bearer bonds. She looked up at John in awed surprise, finding herself unaccountably speechless.

 

"An untraceable form of payment. Mr. Wei preferred these. And so did I. A proper form of remuneration for a ghost."

 

Meg was dismayed at the John's tone, the pain she detected in his voice. She wondered again, as she had before, how John had survived psychologically in the face of being effectively nameless and stateless. She reached out to cover his hand with her own.

 

He looked up at her fondly, accepting the quiet comfort she offered. They sat companionably for a moment before John picked up the final envelope and tipped out its contents.

 

Identification papers. From Hong Kong and dating to before Reunification. Below those, some official looking documents bearing the seal of the government of Canada.

 

"As I said, my case is more complex. With these it might be possible to apply for U.S. citizenship. I am, at least on paper, a Canadian citizen who emigrated from Hong Kong well before Reunification with China."

 

"Did Alan help you with these?" Meg asked inspecting the documents. Again, they seemed genuine.

 

"No, " John admitted, his voice assuming a tinge of irony, "these were Mr. Wei's doing. Protective camouflage in case it was needed, and part of our agreement as well, after I performed the service that bought my passage from China."

 

"You don't have a Canadian passport though?" Meg asked.

 

"They take time to process, which I did not have, as you know, when the need was greatest. Wei's document forger provided any papers needed for my work for Wei."

 

"About time something good came from what that bastard did," Meg commented, glancing at her wristwatch. "We have time before the banks close. Did you want to go ahead and get the banking done?"

 

John nodded. He was still pale, she noted, lines of fatigue returning to his face.

 

"Or not," she said suddenly. "We could stay here tonight. This was a really good first effort, and you've tolerated it well. But you really should rest. Your color isn't getting any better you know. I have dressing material in the car, and I brought your antibiotics. I know a Chinese place that delivers. The banks will be open bright and early tomorrow."

 

John appeared to consider for a moment, a slow smile spreading itself across his face.

 

"I will agree. If you will promise me something," he said, his voice low yet playful.

 

"And that would be?" Meg asked, intrigued.

 

"Make love with me tonight."

 

Whatever Meg had expected, it had not been that, which to her mind was already a foregone conclusion. Still it did no good to appear too eager...

 

"Your mother and sister..."

 

"There are three bedrooms. The two above were always intended as theirs. The master bedroom is down here. Over there." John inclined his head to an area beyond the kitchen, beneath the balcony.

 

"Your arm...." Meg continued to object, playing the game for a minute more.

 

"Did not stop me before," John replied, bringing her toward him until their foreheads touched.

 

"I'll say." Meg said softly. "Well, when you put it like that..how can a girl resist?"

 

 

CHAPTER 9: FIVE WORDS FOR HAPPINESS

 

Liu Shen and Meg struggled through the door later that day, arms laden with bags full of Chinese takeout paid for by John and delivered by the building concierge.

 

"God damn it, John, you ordered enough to feed an army!" Meg exclaimed, staggering to the combination kitchen island/breakfast bar and laying down her burden, then turning to help John's sister to do the same.

 

Meg had wondered, when John had called a restaurant of his familiarity, what had taken so long and so many Cantonese words to order. Now she had her answer. He had apparently ordered the whole damned menu.

 

John was sitting on a stool next to the kitchen island. He had slept part of the day away, stretched out on the couch, watched over by Meg. She smiled, watching him as he inspected each bag as it was laid down. Seizing one of them, he verified the contents then made a move to climb down. Meg laid a restraining hand on his chest.

 

"Whoa, big fella. Stay right there," she cautioned, mindful of the fact that he had yet to recover the color he had lost during a dressing change a few minutes ago. "Where does it go?"

 

John sighed, "Refrigerator."

 

Meg plucked the bag from his grasp, walked over to the empty refrigerator and placed it on a shelf. She checked the refrigeration level and closed the door, throwing a questioning look in John's direction.

 

"Breakfast," he replied laconically, a slight smile on his lips.

 

"Ah! Now explain the rest of this--lunch and dinner for tomorrow, perhaps?" Meg queried, returning to stand next to where he sat.

 

"You wanted a seven course meal. While I have not cooked it myself, I hope this will suffice."

 

Meg smiled, remembering the context of that particular conversation.

 

"It'll do." Meg murmured. She watched as Lee Ma turned away from the sink where she had been washing dishes preparatory to the meal, passing plates and chop sticks to Liu Shen. Eschewing the formal black lacquer dining table a few feet away, John's sister began arranging place settings around the breakfast bar end of the island, where John was already seated. She traded a look with Meg which communicated their mutual desire to see John conserve his energy.

 

"Liu Shen, what do you think of this place?" Meg asked.

 

"It is beautiful. Jian told us many times that he would bring us to a comfortable home, better than any we had known. But I never dreamed anything as grand as this."

 

Meg beamed at John's sister, "I'm going to bring your things over here tomorrow, no need to stay at my place after this."

 

Liu Shen's expression changed, shocked concern replacing the joyful expression of moments before. "Meg, I did not mean---"

 

Casting a glance at John, who also seemed about to say something, Meg cut off Liu Shen's apology in mid-sentence, "Not at all, Liu Shen! There is NO sense sleeping two to a futon in my rat trap when you and Lee Ma can each have your own bedroom here. Besides, this building has great security--L.A. can be a dangerous place, and my apartment doesn't have a great track record in that department."

 

"But where will you be? Jian is not yet well, we cannot do without you! I would miss you...Lee Ma would miss you. John cannot bear--"

 

John cleared his throat interrupting his sister in what Meg suspected was a face saving nick of time, "Perhaps Meg will allow us to repay her hospitality by staying here, with us....for a while," the delay in the last words indicating his distaste for putting a time limit to the invitation.

 

Meg looked at him soulfully, saw in the dark eyes a plea she ached to answer, "Isn't every day I get an invitation to stay over in a place like this. I'll consider it. At least until John is well. Meantime, let's eat. Its past time your brother was laying down to rest."

 

The meal turned into a rollicking affair after Meg and Liu Shen noted with amused chagrin that John was not particularly adept in feeding himself left- handed. The pair took turns offering him tidbits from their plates to supplement what he struggled with on his own, while Lee Ma looked on in vast amusement, pontificating in Cantonese every so often. Liu Shen laughingly translated her mother's pointed remarks, and Meg found herself laughing out loud at the jibes Lee Ma playfully aimed at her son.

 

John assumed a long suffering look as his sister dabbed a napkin at a drip of sauce on his chin, but the dark eyes were lively with merriment.

 

Meg watched him entranced. Six months ago those eyes had often seemed dead, haunted, filled with self loathing. The transformation was breathtaking to behold.

 

John had come back to life again. He was no longer a tormented ghost. Watching him, she fought the urge to cry, stifling the burning wetness in her eyes.

 

The meal stretched itself out as the four of them enjoyed each others company. Meg was astonished when she glanced at her wristwatch out of habit--wondering if it was time to pull out another dose of antibiotics --and discovered it was going on ten pm.

 

"Whoa! I just noticed that it's way past your bedtime, John!" she announced out loud. Liu Shen and Lee Ma turned to look at her as they cleared the breakfast bar of dishes and empty food containers. Both looked at John expectantly, as though he might protest the announcement. From the expressions on their faces, he would be vastly outnumbered if he did so.

 

John shrugged without thinking--wincing at the pain the movement caused in his injured shoulder.

 

"Come on," Meg urged, standing next to him and putting an arm around his waist again as he slipped off the stool and onto his feet. Seeing him steady, she nodded approvingly.

 

"Can you make it to your room? I'll help Lee Ma and Liu Shen clean up, grab the dressings and antibiotics and be there in just a minute to help you into your pajamas, okay?" Meg gave a wink and jerked her head slightly to one side to assure him she had not forgotten her promise, but wanted to make sure that his mother and sister were settled before coming to him.

 

He smiled a mysterious smile and inclined his head. "Of course."

 

He took his leave, beckoning sister and mother to his kiss and embrace, murmuring goodnights in their mother tongue to each before turning and making his way gingerly down the hall.

 

Meg watched him go, following him with her eyes, entirely missing an exchange of looks that passed between Lui Shen and Lee Ma. She never knew that they were not as oblivious as she might have wished.

 

Clean up was accomplished with a determined amount of speed. Lee Ma spoke several sentences to her daughter, which John's sister translated for Meg.

 

"Ma says she is very tired and desires to retire to her room. She hopes that this will not prove an inconvenience. You will be able to manage John, Meg? There is a television in my room, and I so very much want to watch it--to see broadcasts free of political influence for the first time in my life." Liu Shen explained.

 

Meg smiled, "You're probably in luck there, election season doesn't start for a few weeks yet. I'll be fine. It hasn't been that long since John's last dressing change, and he's been good about taking his pills."

 

"Well then," Liu Shen said beaming, "we shall retire then, Li taai-taai." She reached out impulsively and enfolded Meg in a hug.

 

Before she knew it, Lee Ma was following her daughter's example, murmuring what Meg assumed was a good night wish, echoing Liu Shen's use of the honorific.

 

Meg watched them climb the stairs, shaking her head. Somehow, she suspected, she and John had not fooled them for a single minute.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 10: JUST RIGHTNESS

 

"Hello?" the lightly accented voice on the other end of the line spoke.

 

The caller stood in the phone booth, casting a glance up the facade of the building he had followed John Lee and Meg Coburn to.

 

"Confirming that target has landed. I've had him under surveillance. It wasn't until today that I was able to verify the intelligence received that he was staying with Meg Coburn. They left her building earlier today. Confirmed he was wounded, his right arm is in a sling. Right now he's inside the Remington Building. There is no record of ownership under his name, but that means nothing."

 

"Good. You will continue to keep surveillance. I want to know his every move in Los Angeles."

 

"Roger. I'm staked out in front of the building. I will report again tomorrow at the designated time."

 

"Excellent." The line went dead.

 

The caller looked around, stepped out of the phone booth and disappeared into the shadows.

 

Meg retrieved medical supplies and pills from her bag. Nervous about leaving John's papers out on the coffee table where they'd been left--security building or no-- she slipped them into her oversized catchall and carried it with her along to John's room.

 

The door was closed, and suddenly self conscious, she rapped on it before swinging it open, expecting to see John either on the bed or in it.

 

She was disappointed. The bedroom proper was empty, John's suit and sling thrown into a chair across from the bed. She could hear a shower running from the adjacent master bathroom. She put her bag and medicinals on the chair next to his clothing and went to investigate.

 

Damn the man! Cleanliness might be next to godliness but if he got his dressings wet, he was going to be in big trouble. Never mind the risk of getting dizzy in the shower...slipping, falling....

 

What was it they said about bathrooms being the most dangerous rooms in a house?

 

Meg followed the steam trail into the bathroom, brought up short once again by the elegance of the room. She tried to suppress her awe and concentrate on the shower.

 

It too was an elegant affair, a walk-in with a curving wall of frosted glass etched with oriental motif. She stepped closer, coming to stand just outside the opening,

 

"John! I wish you had waited, I could have help---"

 

An arm snaked out of the wall of steam, latching itself around her waist with surprising strength, cutting off her admonition in mid sentence. Before she had quite oriented herself, she was being soaked by a shower head and John's mouth was on her own, his wet body pressing against hers as he urged her up against the shower wall.

 

"Help me now," he murmured, his lips leaving hers and trailing kisses down her neck, his left hand expertly divesting her of dress and undergarments.

 

She found herself, before the sensation of his hands--yes, hands!!-- and lips on her body quite bore the thought away, being mildly annoyed that her clothing was now laying on the floor of the shower becoming thoroughly soaked. She'd have to remember to pick them up and set them up somewhere to dry. She hadn't brought a spare change of clothing, they would have to do for the next day. But she'd worry about that later.

 

Later.

 

Much later.

 

Meg slipped from John's arms, roused from the pleasant slumber that had enveloped them both after their lovemaking.

 

What had begun in the shower had concluded in the bed, the sheets still damp from their wet bodies. If their first night together had been marked by the boundaries set by John's illness, this night smashed through them.

 

Her senses were still singing from the ardent passion they'd shared, her nerves tingling with the aftereffects of their shared pleasure. Any concern she'd had about John's physical condition had been dashed away into insignificance in the fire that had consumed them.

 

She had shattered like glass and only slowly came back together again. Never again to be quite the same.

 

She felt different, fundamentally altered, as though she had been a butterfly in a cocoon before and the love that they made had opened her chrysalis and set her free.

 

Meg stood a moment looking at John, sleeping peacefully.

 

He was so beautiful....it almost hurt to look at him.

 

She wrapped her arms around her nakedness, walking softly across the room, picking up the gleaming white t-shirt from his discarded clothing and pulling it over her head.

 

She paused mid action, holding the cloth of the garment to her face, drinking in the scent of him, then shrugged into it, feeling almost as though the shirt were his arms enveloping her.

 

She moved to the window of the bedroom, looking through the levered blinds at the lights of the city beyond.

 

She did not know how long she stood there, lost in the wonderment of this evening and the knowledge that her soul was no longer her own.

 

It was linked inextricably with that of John Lee.

 

John started awake, the vestiges of a nightmare clinging to his consciousness.

 

Already the images were fading, his mind losing its grasp on them as consciousness fully returned.

 

A legacy of his past...mixed with new images. Fear for his life replaced by fear for that of another.

 

That the dreams had involved Meg, he knew. That they'd been violent and horrific, a given. His nightmares always were, the price he paid for the life he'd led.

 

His right shoulder throbbed from overexertion and strain, but he dismissed the pain, counting it as small price for the gift of this night's lovemaking with Meg. He'd finally been able, through sheer force of will, to make his body express the full intent and extent of his desire and devotion.

 

Meg...

 

His left arm reached out, searching for the warmth of her body beside him.

 

She wasn't there.

 

No wonder he'd awakened to nightmares and feelings of utter loss. She had moved out of his arms and out of the bed, her action unknowingly triggering the dream....

 

His eyes searched the darkness, drawn to her by instinct, the bond between them attracting his soul to hers. Had the room been totally black, he knew he would have been able to find her, drawn like a moth to the flame of her being.

 

She stood at the window, her tall, willowy form outlined by the ambient glow of a September evening. She was wearing his undershirt, her arms clasped around herself as though chilled.

 

He rose silently, resurrecting the stealth that had made him so deadly in his old life, moving soundlessly to cover the distance between them. He ignored the protest his right shoulder made against the exertions of the evening, forcing both arms to obey his commands equally.

 

John slipped those arms around Meg, drawing her back against his body, riding out the frisson of nerves that physical contact with her always created, his desire reawakening.

 

His hands slipped under the t-shirt, his more limber left exploring while the right settled against her belly, relishing the warmth of the skin beneath his aching fingertips. The fire that burned the length of that arm a small price to pay.

 

She moaned softly, turning in his arms, her mouth seeking his out hungrily, her hands answering the movements of his own, exploring, teasing.

 

He urged her back to the bed, and the ardor flared again.

 

It was some time before, satiated, their bodies surrendered to sleep once more.

 

 

CHAPTER 11: THE WILL OF HEAVEN

 

Meg came to awareness slowly, reluctantly, her body reminding her of the exertions of the night past in interesting and multitudinous ways. She kept her eyes closed, trying to hold on to the sensations and memory of the night before for a little while longer.

 

She felt the mattress give slightly to her right, and smelled the delicious aroma of warm food. Bemused by the juxtaposition of input of two senses, she opened her brown eyes.

 

They focussed on a welcome sight. John, up dressed and looking fit, his right arm already back in its sling, a tray balanced in his left.

 

"Breakfast," he said quietly, placing the tray between them.

 

"Dim sum?!" Meg exclaimed, remembering the food she'd put into the refrigerator the night before at John's instruction. She hadn't inspected the contents of the bag, but had taken John's word that whatever was inside was destined for breakfast the next morning. She inspected the array of delicacies that constituted a proper Chinese breakfast, looking up at him in wonder.

 

"I love dim sum! How did you know?" Meg asked. She didn't bother to relate the fact that it was a taste recently acquired, when missing him, she'd found her taste for all things Chinese increasing.

 

Dim sum had been the ultimate in comfort food.

 

John made no reply, sketching an elegant one shouldered shrug and smiling indulgently. He broke a piece off a massive humbao and brought it to her lips.

 

She opened her mouth and received the doughy delight, savored how it melted in her mouth.

 

"How do you feel?" She asked, sitting up, bringing the sheet with her to offer a modicum of modesty, as unnecessary as that seemed after the night they had just spent exploring each other once again.

 

John smiled, "I am fit, Meg. You are all the medicine I need."

 

"You're dressed!" she noted somewhat nonsensically, abashed by his declaration,"you were able to manage alone?"

 

"Lee Ma aided me," he noted matter of factly.

 

"Lee Ma, in here?" Meg gasped, the dim sum all but forgotten.

 

"You were sleeping, I didn't wish to disturb you," John explained.

 

"But...what time is it, anyway?" Meg fumbled for her watch, remembering that it wasn't a waterproof model and had probably died in the shower.

 

"One p.m." John picked up a shrimp roll and offered it to her.

 

"WHAT?!" Meg exclaimed, startled, "why didn't you wake me up? Jesus!!"

 

"There was no need, and you required your rest."

 

"But I thought there were things you wanted to do today, banking to be done..."

 

"Accomplished. I borrowed the keys to your car and Liu Shen and I did what was essential. We also stopped by your apartment--the key was on the same ring as the automobile keys. I took the liberty of having Liu Shen pack a few things for you. Your clothing from yesterday is still wet, it seemed necessary."

 

"You've been driving around L.A.? Lucky for you the car is an automatic."

 

John favored her with a smile that could only be termed sweet, "I have often driven one handed."

 

"I know, I was along for one of those wild rides, remember. You should have woke me up."

 

"I did not have the heart," John admitted. "Please, eat."

 

Meg accommodated his request, chewing thoughtfully in silence for a few moments.

 

"Your bandages..." she began.

 

"Changed. Medicine applied and taken." John reported.

 

"So what do you need me here for?" Meg pouted, then thought better of it, "Don't answer that."

 

John's expression was all innocence. "There are other matters to be dealt with today. I would be grateful for you to accompany me."

 

Meg finished off the other half of the humbao and washed it down with tea that she hoped wasn't spiked this time.

 

"Give me fifteen minutes to shower and I'm there." Meg exclaimed, pushing the tray away and moving to slide out of the bed.

 

On cue, John rescued the tray from being swept away as she wrapped the sheet around herself. Though they certainly held no secrets from each other at this point in their relationship, Meg felt the unaccountable need to maintain her dignity by covering herself up.

 

"Do you require assistance?" John asked ingenuously.

 

"No!" Meg rejoined, pausing at the door to the master bath. She remembered from last night what John's idea of assistance was, "Not if we are to get going any time soon. If you could just have those clothes Liu Shen packed somewhere in the room when I'm done?"

 

John nodded, looking after her wistfully.

 

"So where are we going?" Meg was behind the wheel of her sedan, having carefully checked the vehicle for bullet holes, dents and lost hubcaps. Finding no damage from John's morning excursion, she'd begun to relax.

 

"First, the temple." John stated, looking out the window of the car as they emerged onto the street.

 

Meg nodded. The Buddhist temple in LA's Chinatown where they'd twice taken refuge on their long ago flight from Wei and his goons. Where they had found Alan Chin dying.

 

Silence reigned during the drive, John seeming so lost in thought that Meg had found herself checking on him nearly as often as she checked her rear and side mirrors navigating LA traffic. She was relieved that he looked as fit today as he claimed to be. She had worried more than a little that their extracurricular activities, as pleasurable as they were, could be ill advised. But he seemed to have more energy today than he had the day before, reinforcing her belief once again, that dehydration and infection had laid him lower than the wound itself. Once those problems had been gotten under control, he'd made startling progress in his recovery from injury. The realization was immensely comforting.

 

She noted to her satisfaction as well, that he seemed to be actively exercising his right hand and arm. Her fear that the injury might have resulted in permanent disability retreating ever farther into the realm of unlikelihood.

 

"You sure you're all right?" Meg asked after the silence had become unbearable. "You're awfully quiet. It makes me nervous."

 

John was smiling as Meg glanced in his direction, taking his eyes from the car's passenger side door mirror, where they had been fixed for some time. "Just thinking," he said quietly, "I seem to bring so much disruption to your life. You must be weary of me."

 

Meg noted the tone of wistfulness, which spoke of an insecurity she would never have associated with him.

 

"Like I told you before," she stated, "that is bullshit. Life these last six months was pretty damn boring. I don't like boring. I'm glad to have you back."

 

Meg relived some of the anguish of those months spent apart. "Damn it, I missed you John. You don't know how much."

 

John was watching her carefully now, his brown eyes regarding her as if she were the most precious jewel in the world. She wasn't used to seeing such tenderness aimed in her direction, found herself abashed again. She was unsettled by how a look from him could reduce her to a puddle of jelly, make her weak at the knees.

 

She might as well tell him. She knew it was true...

 

"I love you. You big lug. Probably ever since I let you in my front door the first time. And if you hadn't come back when you did, I was getting ready to come look for you."

 

John looked at her as though he been poleaxed by her admission, his surprise and pleasure tangible. He seemed utterly speechless. Meg had second thoughts about having blurted out the truth so abruptly. Certainly she could have chosen a better time and place.

 

Towards that end, she quickly scouted out a parking spot and pulled the car into it, a small miracle for this part of Los Angeles at this time of day. Throwing it into park, she twisted in the driver's seat, looking John full in the eyes.

 

The loving tenderness and naked vulnerability she saw in them, came close to reducing her to her basic elements. To fight the dissociative feeling, she reached out, taking his face between her hands. Almost immediately, he cupped his left hand to her check, stroking her face with the gentle movements of his thumb.

 

John drank in the sight of Meg, her expression unguarded and openly loving, stripped of her protective shell of nonchalance.

 

Her admission had come close to unmanning him. He was astounded that she had been able to articulate the words so soon. He had not expected it, at least not yet and recognized it for what it was, a gift from her wounded heart.

 

"I don't tell people I love them everyday, John Lee. I hope you know that," Meg was saying, her voice low and soft.

 

"I know," he answered truthfully, and from the depths of his soul, "I know. You are my treasure, Meg. I want to be with you, always."

 

She was crying, her beautiful brown eyes filling with tears. John leaned closer to her, kissing her until they were gone.

 

Meg leaned her forehead into his.

 

"If I don't get this car going again, some cop is going to knock on the window and tell us to take it home..." she said ruefully.

 

John raised his eyebrows and gave her a grin, as though he would not object. Meg shook her head.

 

"Got to get to the temple. We've got to start pacing ourselves."

 

John laughed---one of the first times Meg could remember him doing so. She was entranced by the beauty of the sound of it, her own laughter bubbling in her throat in response.

 

She composed herself for a moment, then turned and started the car, easing it back out into the street.

 

"Li Jian-Hui!" the monk who approached them was middle-aged and possessed of a pleasant round face. He held his hand out to John, then frowned, his gaze taking in the slinged right arm, "what happened?"

 

"The brothers in Canton didn't tell you?" John asked, reaching out his left hand and clasping the monk's offered hand.

 

"They said only that you and your family were on the way. But the communication was cut short--perhaps there was more to say, or they feared a wiretap."

 

"I ran into trouble leaving China. I am fine now, thanks to Meg Coburn. Please Lau Ruong-Jie, meet the woman to whom I owe my life several times over and that of my family."

 

The monk turned towards Meg, once again offering his hand. When she reached out her own to meet it, he brought it to his lips and gave her a gallant buss.

 

"It is my great pleasure, Miss Coburn. John had written me of your help. Thank you for everything you have done for the Li family."

 

"Meg, this is Lau Ruong-Jie. He is Alan's successor at the temple, and a good friend of many years."

 

Meg smiled, even as Lau released her hand. She put her hands together in the Chinese manner and made a slight bow, offering her greeting and respect. Surprised, she suspected, the monk returned her gesture, smiling in return.

 

John was smiling broadly, pleased, she could tell by her actions. She felt a warm flush take her over, basked in his approval.

 

"I take it that you have not come to tell me that you are accepting our offer." Lau said, turning his smile from Meg to John.

 

"While I am grateful for the opportunity, I have decided to pursue another course. However, I have brought something. I wish you to share it between the temple and Alan's family back in China."

 

As Meg watched, John reached into his jacket and withdrew a bankbook.

 

Lau Ruong-Jie's eyes grew huge as he flipped the bankbook open and noted the name on the account and the balance. .

 

"John! You and your family need this far worse--"

 

"We are provided for," John assured. "Please. I can never repay Alan's family for the loss of his life, because of me, but I can soothe their way in this manner. And you will be able to help others, as Alan helped me."

 

Lau Ruong-Jie nodded, obviously overcome. He stepped away after a taking a moment to compose himself, murmuring that he intended to put the bankbook in a safe place.

 

John nodded, explaining that the money, deposited in the name of the Temple, could be transferred at any time, and that Lau was trustee on the account.

 

Lau excused himself and retreated to a private part of the temple.

 

John approached the altar, lighting incense and falling to his knees. Meg followed his example, absorbing the peace of this place, the comfort of the ritual. She wanted to know more of this. Perhaps John would teach her. In the meantime, prayer was prayer, and while she had never listened to the Christian teachings of her youth, she used the opportunity to pray as best she knew how for Alan's soul. For John's health and well being, for that of his sister and his mother.

 

For herself that her way would become clear to her. When she lifted her head, John was regarding her with quiet fondness and approval.

 

Something Lau Ruong-Jie had said smacked against the walls of her memory.

 

"Your friend, Lau said something about you not accepting an offer. What does that mean?"

 

John smiled an enigmatic smile, and paused, as though weighing something in his mind.

 

"I was offered a place here, if I wished, once my family was safely out of China."

 

"You? Here? As a monk?" Meg asked, confounded.

 

John nodded, "The ascetic way is one way that someone such as myself could begin to repay for the sins committed in this life. A life of contemplation and good works might earn some small amount of merit to begin to balance the bad."

 

Meg intellectually understood the logic in his words, could even admire the sentiment. But every atom of her being was railing against the idea of her John, head shaved, living the life of a Buddhist monk.

 

"T-there must be other ways," Meg stammered, reaching over and slipping her hand in his.

 

"Perhaps. But even being condemned to eternal reincarnation would be worth it if I could live what remains of this life with you."

 

He was looking at her again, his eyes dark and seductive, yet remarkably free of guile.

 

"I'm glad you turned down the offer." Meg said in a small, soft voice, "It would have been a great waste. You have much to give, John. I feel that deeply, and you will find a way to do it."

 

John ducked his head, smiling, "May Buddha hear you and provide me the enlightenment to find that path."

 

"Just so long as he sends me down it with you." Meg stated quietly.

 

Meg wandered about the temple, admiring it all over again, while John held back and awaited Lau's return. He did not have to wait long, his friend returning to the great room and falling in at his side.

 

"Does your new course have something to do with her?" Lau asked, his voice light, pitched softly so as not to carry.

 

"I love her, Ruong-Jie. I can only hope."

 

"I'm happy for you, my friend. I will pray for all blessings to come to you both."

 

John looked at Meg wistfully, then turned to look the Buddhist brother in the eye. He switched to Cantonese with his next statement.

 

"&lt;I feel that I am placing her in danger. And now you. I believe we were followed from China, and I know we have been since leaving Meg's apartment. What do you know of survivors of Wei's gang?&gt;"

 

"&lt;Word from Guandong is that the gang is shattered. What few survivors remain have begun looking for new masters. You and the others did a good job of making Wei's assets disappear. Loyalty only lasts as long as the money in that world.&gt;"

 

"&lt;But some adherent might still be looking for revenge.&gt;" John stated.

 

"&lt;Possible, I have no intelligence to support it, but I will bring up the problem to my brothers in China. Perhaps they will be able to uncover something.&gt;" Lau responded.

 

"&lt;It may become necessary at some point to send Meg and my family to you. For protection. I don't want you to end up as Alan did.&gt;" John said with feeling.

 

"&lt;Alan was always the truest Buddhist of us all. Even as we were being reeducated in the Army, he was the one who best followed the precepts. He has attained enlightenment and stepped off the wheel of life for his many good works. I, on the other hand, am more pragmatic and have many more incarnations to left to me to correct my karma. I have not forgotten my skills, any more than you have. I stand ready to protect them at any time it is required.&gt;"

 

"Thank you, Ruong-Jie," John switched back to English, still pitching his voice low.

 

"Just promise me something, Jian." Lau added.

 

"What, my friend?" John's eyes shone with gratitude as he regarded his compatriot.

 

"That you will be careful and take good care of yourself. Not take any unnecessary risks. Not let your sense of honor overcome your sense of self preservation."

 

John looked at Lau silently, as though weighing what he might have to say.

 

Lau took the opportunity of his continued silence to drive the point home, "I see in your lady's eyes how much she loves you. You have more than just yourself to live for now. Don't make her a widow before you take her to wife."

 

John looked in Meg's direction. Lau could see that his point had been made and tacitly agreed to, noted the longing and love he saw in his friend's eyes as he regarded his beloved.

 

John nodded.

 

CHAPTER 12: THE PROFOUNDITY OF DEEP WATER

 

"That was a wonderfully generous thing you did back there," Meg commented as they sat in her car outside the temple.

 

"Wei's money. It was the least I could do." John responded, surveying his surroundings carefully, watching traffic on the street, people walking by the temple. "He destroyed so many lives."

 

"You should be keeping some of that for yourself. He destroyed your life too." Meg stated gently.

 

"I've taken enough from Wei. I want nothing more. I have provided for my sister and my mother out of his money. I have taken nothing for myself." John replied, his eyes slowly finishing their sweep of their surroundings and shifting to meet Meg's gaze.

 

"But John. You deserve--" Meg began. He made a dismissive gesture, then reached into his breast pocket.

 

"Mr. Wei was destructive to your life and livelihood as well," John said carefully. "I want you to accept this, as you accepted the money I sent from China."

 

He held out a second bank book, this with her name on the cover. John smiled encouragingly.

 

Meg accepted the book, brows drawn, "I don't understand..."

 

"Open it," John urged quietly.

 

Meg accepted the proffered bankbook and flipped it open. Her eyes automatically fell to the balance line. Her jaw dropped and she was speechless for one of the few times in her life.

 

"John, I can't accept this!" Meg finally exclaimed, recovering from the initial shock. It was an obscenely large amount of money, more than she ever hoped to see in her lifetime.

 

"I want you provided for. I hope that you will choose to spend your life with me. But if you do not, or if anything should ever happen to me, I need to know that you are taken care of."

 

Meg looked at John sharply. Little clues began to fall together. Icy fingers of fear clenched around her heart.

 

"What aren't you telling me?" Meg's voice was calm and steady, an incredible feat of self control since she felt anything but.

 

"Nothing, Meg. I have planned this for six months. You were right, all those months ago. I destroyed your life when I entered it. It has always been my intention to make up for that."

 

Meg continued to look at John, searching for signs of dissembling. His face was impassive, betraying nothing, in that aggravating way he had.

 

"Bullshit," Meg responded finally, remembering the accusation. "Professional hazard. It wasn't your fault you did the right thing and got punished for it."

 

"Still, you should have this." John replied.

 

The unease she felt would not go away. The idea grew and took root that he had been pursued from China. She'd been too distracted by events and the joy of having him back to notice. Had too readily accepted his assurances that all was well.

 

Meg knew he was only trying to protect her. She loved him for it. But she wasn't the one who needed it. She put her internal security system on red alert.

 

She would not challenge him, knowing only too well that he would continue to conceal from her that which he did not want her to know. But she knew the rules to that game as well.

 

"John Lee, no amount of money could ever replace you. I don't want this, I don't need this. I won't take this. I just need you. Alive and well. With me." Meg closed the bankbook and handed it back to John.

 

He pulled the deposit record from her hand, and slipped it back into his pocket, his eyes sad.

 

"Meg," he began, "Please let me do this for you. It is important to me to know that you are provided for."

 

Meg put her fingers to his lips, "Don't talk like that. I've got you here, safe, and you're going to stay that way, you hear me?"

 

He kissed her fingers, then reached up and removed them, pulling her close, kissing her deeply.

 

"So anything else to tend to?" Meg asked a few minutes later, guiding the car through mid afternoon traffic.

 

"No. Not today," John replied, his eyes fixed once again on the side mirror.

 

Meg was keeping her own surveillance on rear and side mirrors, her mind alert. While she had not been able to detect anyone following them, that did not mean that they weren't out there, just out of sight.

 

"I'd like to stop by my place for a few minutes," Meg announced quietly. "If I'm going to stay at your loft, I need some more clothes. And my laptop, I'm going through computer withdrawal. Are you up to a side trip?"

 

"Of course," John smiled at her, taking his eyes off the side mirror for a moment. Fatigue disappeared from his face, there was a mischievous glint in his eyes.

 

Meg smiled in return. There were times when she could read that normally inscrutable mind of his. Just like a millions of women before her were able to read the minds of their men.

 

"We've really got to start pacing ourselves," she said dryly. "You're still recuperating!"

 

Their destination decided, John settled back in the car seat, pondering the last hour even as he resumed his surveillance.

 

The anger which had flared in Meg's eyes when he attempted to give her the bankbook gave him pause. She was still a mystery to him at times, possessing the ability to profoundly surprise and delight him.

 

He had expected many reactions but not the one he had received. He had expected resistance to the gift, but not an outright and seemingly final rejection of it. She had dismissed the issue of money, focussing solely on the idea of something happening to him. He was warmed by her stated protectiveness, but also frustrated by it. He had seen a growing knowledge in her velvet brown eyes. He had hoped to keep her oblivious, to keep her from unnecessary worry.

 

John knew that he should have been more careful in his choice of words, his lack of subtlety had thwarted his intention. It had been a misstep to bring up the idea of anything happening to him. Meg had issues with separation and loss, he knew. Her own parents gone forever when she was young. Her years in America's not always perfect social system.

 

His heart ached for the life she had led, not so very different, in its way from his own or his family's. Disenfranchised, never allowed to just be.

 

She could deny the money for as long as she wanted, it would be hers regardless. Eventually he would convince her to join him in the quest for a new and better life, encourage her to use some of the money he'd liberated on her behalf from Wei's enterprises to fund her heart's desire.

 

If he could neutralize the threat that he knew was out there casting its shadow on them all.

 

It was his intention that never again would Meg need to do the very thing that had brought them together. He was desperate that she should turn away from her risky life as a documents forger. Zedkov might be turning a blind eye for now, but circumstances changed, cops moved on or died. He wanted for her what he wanted for his family, a new life and new hope.

 

All of this would come in time. He would make sure of it. For now, it was enough that they had each other.

 

Meg shivered, although lying in John's arms she was not truly cold. He was dozing again, while she remained awake, alert. On guard. Listening.

 

Alone in her apartment, they had taken advantage of its privacy, falling onto her bed before completing even one of the errands she had come to perform. Their lovemaking had been bittersweet, Meg haunted by John's earlier words; fear for his life mingling with sensual pleasure.

 

John's tenderness in desire had been breathtaking, soul soothing. The demons had retreated, for a while at least, coming back to her only now.

 

She was angry with herself for letting her natural caution lapse, felt again the threat closing in on them, faceless and nameless. She'd been blinded to danger by love and her own enjoyment in the moment. That would not happen again.

 

Meg was not about to let anything happen to him. She was going to make it her life's mission to keep him safe and well. She would protect his life, and that of his family with her own if it came to that.

 

Her motives were not completely altruistic. She cherished the contentment she'd felt since his return. Felt treasured and love in a way she had never experienced. Included in a family full of genuine warmth for her for the first time in her life. She didn't want to lose any of it.

 

Yet even as she snuggled closer to John, her mind wandered down paths of self doubt.

 

Never having loved before, she wasn't sure of the rules, the protocol. Mostly she wasn't sure of herself. Her reaction to his wanting to provide her with more money than she'd ever imagined deeply puzzled her. The old Meg would have jumped at the opportunity to live a life of ease and comfort, no matter the strings attached. Sure, she'd have had a fight with herself, and her damned overdeveloped streak of independence and self reliance, but the money would have won out in the end. Never having had enough of it and the security it represented had made her supremely practical minded.

 

Love complicated the equation.

 

With John, all the old rules she'd lived her life by no longer applied. In his eyes she saw herself as he saw her, as someone worthy of love, respect and devotion. She wanted nothing more than to live up to that wonderful vision he held of her.

 

Further she knew she could trust him. John Lee would never hurt her, never break her heart intentionally as her father had broken her mother's heart and spirit.

 

Meg had never understood why her lovely, lively mother, who could have been anything she wished, joined her life with an abusive alcoholic who demeaned her every hope, dream and wish. Who crushed her soul. Who had in the end, caused the injuries that had killed her. Her mother had offered her no other explanation for why she stayed other than that she loved her husband. Even as she lay dying.

 

She knew nothing of love, a great deal about dysfunction. Her foster parents had provided no alternate reality. She'd spent the time in foster care before she made her escape to independence evading the lascivious and shutting out the disinterested. There were good foster parents out there, she knew. She had just never been lucky enough to land with any of them.

 

She had always considered herself damaged goods. Lacking a major chunk of what it took to know love and return it. It came to her again that John deserved better than that.

 

Damaged goods. Meg shivered again.

 

John sensed her distress, even as he slept, his arms drawing her closer, pressing her body against his warm, solid form, offering her without waking, the comfort of his presence. She accepted it, turning in his arms to bury her face against him, to lose herself in his warmth, his scent.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 13: A PEARL THROUGH CLEAR WATER

 

Meg fell back to sleep in John's arms, proximity bringing a deep sense of peace no matter the danger she'd sensed around them.

 

In his arms anything felt possible, she drifted off dreaming of a future together, in spite of her many doubts.

 

The nightmare when it came was therefore devastating, especially for its vivid sense of reality.

 

Horror took the form, of a fairly recent event. One that had resolved itself without tragedy. A twist on event that had occurred and been survived six months ago in fact.

 

John had held her against her will in that ratty old hotel room. He'd been ministering to her dislocated kneecap, souvenir of the battle at Eddie's car wash when one of Wei's goons had kicked her. Her rage at John and the circumstance had been white hot, heightened by the pain and adrenaline of her injury. Seeing an unguarded moment and a chance to make her move for John's gun, she'd gone for it, bringing the weapon to his head, even as he reached for a compress for her knee.

 

It had been an incredibly tense moment, she'd had the upper hand. John had urged her bitterly to go for it--and had meant it, she knew now. The thought implicit: end my misery. She hadn't, and John had quickly turned the tables, his own rage erupting, holding the gun to her throat for several tense moments before the torment had entered his eyes and he'd broken away, moved across the room and apologized.

 

All had turned out well then. John had spoken of his family, his predicament and Meg had taken the first steps down the road that led to where their relationship now stood.

 

Her dream, perverse as the unconscious mind can make things, had rewritten the scene. This time, he'd urged her to go ahead and shoot, and she had done it. Shot him, point blank, in the head, watched as his body fell lifeless to the hotel room floor.

 

The imagery shot her out of slumber into full wakefulness in the span of a few seconds. She started awake, clammy with shock, her entire body jumping as though to physically escape the phantasm.

 

She'd pulled, unknowing, from John's embrace. Meg moving abruptly out of his arms startled him, made his finely honed sense of danger kick in.

 

In the moment or two it took him to orient himself and recognize, visually and viscerally, the source of tumult, his every sense jumped alive, ready to act as necessary. It took some concerted effort, once he realized that Meg's abrupt movement warned not of external threat but inner torment, to ratchet down his response. But he did it, and reached for Meg.

 

Her skin had the cold clamminess of someone who had just suffered a physical or emotional shock. She was breathing heavily, her eyes unfocussed as though a dream still held her and refused to let her go.

 

John, bemused, pulled her close again. She sobbed once, then shivered.

 

"Meg, what is wrong?" he asked quietly, stroking her hair, tipping her chin up to look into her eyes.

 

The dissociative look was fading, but fresh pain was taking its place. When she didn't answer, he pressed on, "Meg, tell me!"

 

The tormented brown eyes tried to look away, but he wouldn't allow it.

 

"I dreamt you were dead," Meg said finally, seeming about to say more at first, but no words followed.

 

"But I am not. Meg, look at me, please. See that it was a nightmare."

 

Meg did as she was bidden, the fear in her eyes slowly giving way to the glisten of tears. She never shed them, John watching in concerned fascination as she forced back even threat of weeping. Instead she shook her head and forced a smile.

 

It troubled John that she was dissembling, he instinctively knew that there was something about her dream that she had not shared. He cared not that she was hiding something, only worried at the price it was costing her to keep the secret in.

 

"There is more, is there not?? Something you aren't telling me. Please Meg, tell me what it is so that together we can deal with it." he urged.

 

"I dreamt that we were back in the hotel room, six months ago. That when I held the gun to your head--that I shot you. I killed you in my dream, John..." she shuddered involuntarily.

 

John reached out in empathy. He'd had a dream or two of his own about the incident, only his tormented him from the opposing viewpoint, that when he had retaliated by holding the gun to her throat, it had gone off.

 

The dreams held a kernel of truth--that each of them held the greatest capacity to hurt the other, the unconscious mind taking a vivid and inelegant method of informing the dreamers of that fact. He confessed his own experience to her then, in low tones. explaining their origin as he had begun to see it and live with it.

 

"It didn't happen, never will happen. We will forget these images. All we need to do is to have a care for each other and everything will be all right," he concluded.

 

Meg let the tears go then, tears of healing or torment he could not be sure. He felt an answering wetness in his own eyes.

 

That she accepted the comfort he offered her now, was good. He concentrated on enfolding her not only into his arms, but into a healing sense of peace.

 

He'd created the maelstrom, and as always seemed to be true, Meg was paying the price.

 

Meg slipped her laptop into the suitcase with the clothes she had already packed, then placed the bundle she'd taken from her hidden stash of weapons next to it. In addition to the .38 she carried in her purse, she now felt fully armed and ready to take on all comers.

 

John was napping again, less strong physically, Meg knew, than he pretended to be. He'd held her for a long time after her nightmare, soothing her with soft words of comfort in English and his mother tongue until he had drifted off, repaying the energy debt he owed his wounded body. She'd slipped out of his arms to set about gathering the items she'd come here to retrieve.

 

Somehow Meg had been able to overcome the trauma the nightmare had created. She turned the horror and grief it had created into a renewed purpose.

 

The phantasm had been created out of her guilt at letting her natural caution drop, from her sense that danger was closing in around them. As well, as John had confessed to her, with the knowledge that outside physical threats aside, they did have the capacity to be their own worst enemies. Two wounded souls, slowly learning what it meant to love and be loved.

 

She coped with this knowledge, which had disturbed her earlier, by rededicating herself to John and keeping him safe. The rest she would learn to deal with later.

 

She slipped into her outer office, walking softly and quietly. She opened a drawer in her computer desk, searching for a card given her months ago and ignored until now. Finding it, she sat down and booted up the computer.

 

She typed out the message, carefully entering the address written on the card, then opened up her internet connection to send it.

 

It was one of the reasons she now needed the laptop, so that she could remotely access her e-mail as she awaited Zeedo's reply.

 

Meg sat at the edge of her bed, watching John sleep.

 

He looked so peaceful. Although she reckoned that it was past time that he had a dressing change and more medication, she did not have the heart to disturb him. Instead she sat for several minutes just looking at him.

 

As if aware of her scrutiny, he roused after a while, dark eyes opening slowly, a smile spreading across his face as they beheld her.

 

"Past time we were getting back to the loft. Lee Ma and Liu Shen will be wondering what happened to us."

 

 

 

CHAPTER 14: A CENTERED HEART

 

They drove back to John's loft in a companionable silence, John not speaking until they were nearly to the Remington Building.

 

"I must take Liu Shen and Lee Ma to Seattle, soon," he said quietly.

 

Meg spared a glance in his direction, finishing the thought in her own mind: where they will be safe.

 

"How soon?" Meg asked, trying to keep her voice equable, it wasn't easy to think of him leaving again.

 

"Ideally, in the next few days. I will call my mother's brother. He was an officer under my father in the Chinese Army."

 

And an ideal candidate, perhaps, to make sure John's sister and mother stayed safe, Meg mused silently.

 

"I've brought my laptop computer with us. I'll do some research on airfares for you on line."

 

Meg was grateful that airfare shopping would give her a her an excuse to be online. Once Zeedo responded, they might be able to keep up covert correspondence without John being aware.

 

John was looking at her intently, noting her word usage--"you" instead of "us".

 

"You would be welcome to come along with us," John offered, regarding her quietly.

 

Meg flashed him a smile that she did not truly feel in her heart, "Family reunions are best left to family, John. Just promise me you will come back. I'll be fine here until you return."

 

John frowned as he handed her the keycard as she turned into the parking garage of his building.

 

"I will come back, as soon as I can. I would feel much better if you consented to accompany us."

 

Meg pulled the car into the space reserved for John, and turned to give him her full attention. She looked at him, hoping that her expression was as inscrutable as his own.

 

"I need to stay here, get some things done. I've got a livelihood to pursue you know, rent to be paid. Unless," Meg was careful in her choice of her next words, "you feel the need for a bodyguard?"

 

She looked John directly in the eye then, hoping against hope that he would admit to her, under the florescent lights of the parking garage, the threat looming over him. Then everything could be in the open, protection arranged, strategy formed.

 

She saw the shadow of indecisiveness pass across his features, his eyes tortured for the briefest moment. But the indecision was soon replaced by resolve. She might have been angry, but that she knew he sought only to shield her. He flashed her one of his most charming smiles.

 

"No need for that. I will miss you, terribly." John admitted, once again, as ever, shifting the subject skillfully. He was determined to protect her from the knowledge, as though being oblivious was its own security.

 

For Meg's part, forewarned was forearmed. But she did not challenge him. Instead, she replied, "I'll miss you more."

 

"You will do me a favor?" John couched his thought as a question, but it seemed more a command.

 

"Depends," she rejoined, keeping her voice light and airy.

 

"Stay at the loft while I am gone? It is secure, has every service available. I will not worry so much if you do this." John replied.

 

If the plan forming in her mind was to come to fruition, that was the last thing she could do, but he did not need to know that.

 

"I'll think about it. But I can't do my job without my computers."

 

"I will not be gone that long. You do not need to work while I am gone. If money for rent is a problem--" John persisted until Meg made a dismissive gesture.

 

"I'll think about, it John. We should go up. You need to take your medicine and have a dressing change."

 

John looked at her closely for a long moment, then nodded his head.

 

The shadowy figure was back in the phone booth outside the loft building, staring into the parking garage opening where he had seen Meg Coburn's car, bearing John Lee, disappear only minutes ago.

 

"Target in the nest," his message was terse, "awaiting further instruction."

 

The quiet voice on the other end of the connection spoke, "Continue surveillance. I am on coming to Los Angeles. I should be there mid week next week. I must see to this matter myself."

 

"Understood. Will await your arrival information."

 

The line went dead, the ominous shadow hung up the phone and disappeared into the darkness.

 

Meg waited until the loft had grown quiet, and John was sleeping deeply before slipping out to the common area and activating her laptop.

 

They had been welcomed warmly by Liu Shen and Lee Ma, provided with a sumptuous meal ordered from the full service dining room. John had spent at least a couple of hours on the phone, calling Seattle and his maternal relatives.

 

Most of the conversation had been conducted in Cantonese, and Meg regretted that she didn't understand more than a few words of the language. John's pleasant demeanor had changed to a deadly serious expression for the bulk of the conversation, and she suspected that he was detailing the situation to his Uncle the former Chinese army officer.

 

He made another call after Liu Shen and Lee Ma had had a taken turns speaking with various long lost relatives in Seattle. Again, the conversation was in Cantonese, and therefore beyond her ability to understand, but she thought he heard John refer to the monk, Ruong Jie in the course of the conversation.

 

Lee Ma and Liu Shen had been seated across from her, listening to John speaking on the phone. Their expressions were serious and told her far more of what she needed to know than they were aware.

 

As John was bidding farewell on the phone, Meg looked at Lee Ma and Liu Shen, her face carefully composed to be as ingenuous as possible.

 

"I would love to learn Cantonese Chinese--would you teach me?"

 

The two women looked startled and guilty by turns, then regained their composure and flashed her smiles that echoed John's own for charm.

 

"Of course!" Liu Shen said in English, and Lee Ma echoed.

 

Zeedo had supplied Meg with an e-mail address scrawled on the back of the proffered business card, that she presumed was his home internet address. She hoped therefore that she might have received an answer.

 

She was not disappointed. When she logged into her e-mail account, the newly familiar e-mail address was blinking at her.

 

Meg smiled as she read the message:

 

*Have information you might find useful. Need to meet. When? Z."

 

Meg typed out her answer, wishing she dared leave now. She was burning to know what Zedkov could tell her.

 

*Soon. Will be in touch. M.*

 

She sent the message, then turned off the laptop and returned to bed.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 15: THE DRAGON RISES

 

Meg rose early the next morning, showering and dressing and signing on to her laptop before John and his family stirred.

 

She researched airline fares for a full half hour, writing out a list of flight possibilities to present to John.

 

Then she e-mailed Zeedo once more, positing meeting times and scenarios.

 

The best bet was to hold off meeting Zedkov until after John and his family left for Seattle, when her time would be her own for a few days. But Meg was impatient, wanted to push the meeting forward to his earliest possible convenience. She had to know what he knew and set her plan in motion.

 

But what about John?

 

He'd been discreet with his protectiveness, but it had become obvious to Meg that he would not be likely to allow her out of his sight long enough for her to meet with Zeedo.

 

Meg hit upon a plan, which she now signed onto her e-mail account to offer to Zedkov. Hopefully he would go along with it. If all went well, she could have her meet and keep John just as oblivious as he was intent on keeping her.

 

She had her answer before John stirred some thirty minutes later.

 

Meg greeted John as he emerged from his shower, wielding antibiotics and dressing materials. John smiled broadly and submitted to her ministrations. Meg prattled on as she checked his wound, healing beautifully, telling him about the airfares she had researched. After some consideration, he agreed to a suggested flight leaving in two days.

 

Meg shifted the subject away from the departure, the thought of which filled her with a kind of dread. She forced herself to be as lighthearted as possible as she couched her next comment.

 

"Your mother and sister haven't seen much of LA, so what do you say--shall we show them the sights today? Disneyland? Universal Studios, or better yet, LA's Chinatown and Farmers Market? The beach? Rodeo Drive?"

 

John looked at her thoughtfully, as though weighing the risks against the enjoyment his mother and sister could gain from the expedition. Then a sparkle grew in his eyes and he smiled at her, dazzlingly.

 

"I would love for them to see all those places. But perhaps some of them could await another visit. Let us concentrate on seeing the most that is nearby. Chinatown, yes, beach, yes, Farmer's Market, yes. Rodeo Drive, definitely. Perhaps we can do some shopping," he suggested.

 

"John, let's try to keep some of that money of yours in your pocket, okay? I'll go make the airline reservations, you announce our excursion to Lee Ma and Liu Shen." Meg announced brightly as she finished placing a wound dressing on John's shoulder, and watched him down the medication with a glass she'd brought in for the purpose.

 

She turned to leave the bedroom, only to have her arm caught by John who pulled her close. He was still clad only in a towel from his shower.

 

She yielded to the pressure, initiating a deep soulful kiss before he had the chance. Then she pulled away, extracting herself from his arms.

 

"Later. We want to get going soon!" she chastised, grinning at him, then escaping out the door to where her laptop sat on the coffee table near the couch.

 

First, she made the airline reservations for the three of them, then she sent an e-mail to Zedkov, confirming the time and place for their somewhat unusual meeting.

 

Meg smiled in delight as she watched Liu Shen and Lee Ma move through the Farmer's Market, John in tow, engaging in a lively discourse about the variety of produce and goods before them. Meg had managed to hang back from them a bit, allowing time for Zeedo to make contact as they'd arranged.

 

Still, she was startled when she was approached by a small boned Asian woman of indeterminate age who held out a pair of earphones attached to a Walkman. She nearly politely declined the offer to "listen" until the woman smiled and identified herself in a stage whisper, flashing a police ID. She handed the headphones to Meg again, making a great show of going through a pantomimed sales pitch while Meg put the phones on and played along.

 

"Discreet enough for you?" Zeedo's voice came over the earphones. "I'm in a van down the street from you. Officer Williams is a member of my task force. We've got you, your friend and his family in sight."

 

"Good to talk to you Zeedo. What have you got for me?"

 

"Now, let's just wait a minute, Miss Meg," Zeedo's radio transmission crackled over the headphones, "I want you to promise before I tell you anything that you're going to work with me on this. Not go off on your own tear with what I tell you. Cooperate, we nail the guys after your friend, and I can make your record go away. Give you a fresh start. Hopefully in another jurisdiction."

 

Meg smiled, noting that Zeedo's gruff demeanor remained undiminished for all the months that had passed since she'd last seen him. "Sounds good. Who do you know in Seattle? Anyone?" Meg replied.

 

"I want the promise couched in stronger terms than that first." Zeedo warned.

 

"I agree, I promise to work with you. Okay? I don't have all day here, 'my friend' and his family will be missing me any minute now." Meg glanced in the Lees' direction. John was turning, looking at her, wondering, no doubt, why she was hanging back. She smiled and waved merrily in his direction, pantomiming between the earphones and Zeedo's undercover officer. John smiled and nodded. She'd bought a few more minutes at least.

 

"That's better. I've got some good friends in the Seattle police department. Why do you ask?"

 

"My friend and his family will be arriving in Seattle in two days time. I need to be assured of their protection from the second the plane lands. My friend is settling his family up there, and then he will be returning to LA temporarily. I don't want to get a phone call about something happening to any of them while they are up there."

 

"Give me flight numbers and times. I may be able to arrange protection from this end on up. We've got a detective going up to Seattle to bring an extradited felon. He's on a similar flight schedule. One of my Seattle friends ought to be able to pick up where he needs to leave off."

 

"Beautiful. Check your e-mail, I sent the flight information to you just before we left to come here. It should be waiting for you. He's traveling under the name of Alan Chin, his sister as Mei Ling Li and his mother as Sung Ju. These are not their real names."

 

"Figured that. Okay. I'll take care of it." Zeedo responded. He then rattled off the information he had promised Meg in a staccato burst. "Here's what I've got. Off the record, mind you. Word is that a big name in the Chinese triads is coming to LA next week. He's some sort of distant relation to Wei, second cousin, nephew once removed, not sure. He's looking to see if there is anything salvageable of Wei's business. But word on the street is that he's also looking to settle a score. With someone who barely got out of China with his life a few days ago. Sound familiar?"

 

"Yeah..." Meg looked in John's direction. He was looking at her once again, she could tell by his demeanor he was concerned and would soon be coming to fetch her, "Look, I've got to cut this short. I'll send you an e-mail detailing this idea I have. I don't think you'll find too much to fault it. After all, you used me as bait once before as I recall. Gotta go, my friend is coming to see what is taking me so long...."

 

"MEG, I never agreed--" Zeedo started to protest. Meg said a rushed goodbye over the cop's objections and handed the earphones back to the undercover police officer, picking up the pretense of an adamant refusal of her sales pitch without missing a beat.

 

Just in time. John was at her elbow, touching her arm, looking first at her and then to the 'saleswoman' with an air of determined curiosity.

 

"Sorry John, she has a hell of a sales pitch. I almost fell for it." Meg smiled artfully, as John continued to look at the woman for a minute longer. "Come on, she's harmless. If we lose Lee Ma and Liu Shen in here, we'll never find them again."

 

John spared a final glance at the undercover policewoman, then shook his head and looked at Meg.

 

"I must never take you to Hong Kong," John commented. "You would end up no money whatsoever."

 

Meg smiled and took John Lee's arm companionably, "Smile when you say that, mister."

 

Chuckling, they went off to find Liu Shen and Lee Ma.

 

Meg had been mildly surprised when John indicated their final destination of the day. She'd driven up Rodeo Drive into Beverly Hills, pointing out some of the flashier dwellings to the astounded Liu Shen and Lee Ma. Meg found herself embarrassed by the conspicuous consumption that surrounded them, remembering the difficult life John and his family had known in their homeland. She drove as far into the realm of the filthy rich as far she could stand and as she dared, driving her serviceable but not very glamorous sedan. They stuck out like a sore thumb in this part of Los Angeles and would probably soon attract the attention of the Beverly Hills police.

 

She found a place to make a discreet turn around and proceeded back down to the commercial district of Rodeo Drive. She was just pulling even with a ritzy woman's clothing shop when John, sitting beside her, gestured her to pull over.

 

"Here??" She protested. John's only reply was a smile.

 

The valet parking attendant had sniffed at the car, until John had waved a large bill under his nose. After a moment of taking John in, dressed as he was in an Armani suit, the attendant smiled and hopped into action. Amazing how quickly an attitude adjustment could take place with the right currency denomination and window dressing in evidence.

 

John reached for Meg's hand as he shepherded his mother and sister into the swank women's clothing shop. He squeezed her hand reassuringly as she paused, overwhelmed. No matter how lucrative her document business might be at times, shopping at an address like this had always been a pipe dream.

 

"Perhaps you will assist my sister and mother to pick out a few items. I could not buy them everything they needed," John was saying, slipping her a wad of bills that would have choked a draft horse.

 

Meg refused to allow herself to be intimidated by the surroundings, and set about shopping with her companions, enjoying their awe and delight over the store's upscale merchandise. Eschewing the help of the ubiquitous sales staff, Meg turned Liu Shen and Lee Ma loose to make their selections among negligees and lingerie, moving back to where John stood, in the man-safe realms of the shop.

 

John was, she noted, showing some of the strain of the day's exertions. He was still feeling the drain on his energy from being injured, and from being far more active than he should have early on. She worried that with the Lee's departure for Seattle set for two days from now, that he was really not up to the course he'd set himself upon.

 

She slipped her hand into his, "You look tired. I can hurry your sister and mother along. It has been a long day, we should be getting back to your loft."

 

John smiled at her, shaking his head, "No need. Let them enjoy themselves. We have not shopped for you, yet." he responded, looking at her levelly.

 

"There isn't anything I need, John. I've got closets full of clothes at home." Nothing this fine, of course, but then she'd always dressed more for comfort and her own sense of style, anyway.

 

"Indulge me. I want to buy you things." John replied.

 

"John, you need to be watching your money--saving it for your family's needs and comfort. Not spending it on me."

 

"As I have told you, Meg, we are provided for. I want to do this. Please?"

 

Meg shook her head, realizing that she could deny this man nothing when he looked at her like that, his dark eyes warm and loving.

 

"I would never have taken you for a spendthrift, John Lee. All right. But just one thing."

 

John cocked his head at her, as though he wished to say something, but had decided against it. He was looking more worn out by the minute, perhaps he lacked the energy to argue with her.

 

"First though, you're going to sit down. And I'm going to speed shop, because you really need to get home and get some rest."

 

Meg put on her most imperious air and gestured a hovering sales lady over to where they stood.

 

"My husband," Meg stressed the word, noting how the young woman eyed John appreciatively as she approached, "has not been well and needs to sit down."

 

All fluttering eyelashes and flashing smiles, the woman--apparently not put off by Meg's stated relationship to John--took his left arm and urged him into an area near the fitting rooms which sported several overstuffed chairs. Meg followed in their wake, suppressing the urge to kill the young woman for her flagrant forwardness. For his part, John was polite, but reserved with the young sales lady, looking over his shoulder at Meg while suffering her blandishments.

 

Once John was seated, the young woman disappeared, promising to return with tea. Meg took the opportunity to kneel down in front of John.

 

"You'll be all right? I won't take long," Meg asked, reaching out to touch John's face, hoping that the young sales clerk was watching her stake her claim.

 

"No rush, Meg. I am fine. Please proceed." John said quietly.

 

Meg lingered for a moment, studying John's face. Determined to find the least expensive thing in the shop as fast as she could, she moved away.

 

Meg walked through the displays of lingerie quickly, until her eyes fell upon a negligee of breathtaking beauty and color. She imagined herself modeling it for John in the privacy of his bedroom...

 

Meg approached it, fingering the silk fabric, glancing at the price tag. She gulped, moving away. A quick check of surrounding items revealed them to be no less expensive. Only one thing. She could justify only one item.

 

By serendipity, the negligee that had caught her eye was her precise size. Biting her lip, she took it off the rack and moved back to where John sat. He was balancing a cup of tea in his hand, even as the sales clerk moved a small table next to his chair and proceeded to fawn over him.

 

Meg's irritation flared. The woman was showing all the subtlety of a cat in heat.

 

But then, John was catnip, sitting there looking devastatingly handsome, if a bit pale.

 

"So, darling," Meg announced her return loudly, "What do you think of this one?"

 

John seemed oblivious to the sales lady's behavior, to his credit. He sat the tea cup on the table and turned to give Meg his full attention.

 

"Lovely," he said, "Miss, please wrap this," He ordered the young woman without so much as sparing a glance in her direction, his eyes instead engaging Meg's and communicating quite clearly his delight and pleasure in her choice.

 

"Well, then, as soon as she gets that ready, we can go. If Liu Shen and Lee Ma are ready. Please drink your tea though, she went to such trouble to get it for you." Meg threw a scowl at the saleswoman as she scurried off

 

"Please, Meg. Continue. There is no rush." John responded earnestly, bringing the teacup to his lips and taking a sip.

 

"I said I agreed to one thing, John. And you should probably have looked at the price tag on that before ordering her to wrap it up."

 

"Price does not matter. And while you may have agreed to ‘just one thing', I did not. I will not leave until we are finished."

 

"And you will decide when that is, I take it?" Meg responded, arching an eyebrow at him.

 

John nodded solemnly. "There were some lovely dresses over there. Please, have a look."

 

Meg sighed. If the man was so intent on doing damage to his pocketbook, who was she to argue? Never mind that she worried that John did not fully appreciate the cost of items at this address, fresh from China as he was--it wasn't in her to take advantage. She liked money and fine things as well as the next woman, but she preferred to make her own way in life, living within her own means. She had never allowed a man to buy her much more than a meal, preferring her independence and self sufficiency.

 

And she had far more serious things on her mind than shopping.

 

But John...when he looked at her like that...it was difficult to deny him anything.

 

Meg forged ahead, skimming through racks of dresses dispassionately. Surely if she said she had found nothing to catch her eye, that would suffice?

 

Her eyes chose that moment to fall on a rack of cheongsams, a veritable rainbow of silken treasures. She had always admired the cut of the asian dresses, always wanted to own at least one. But had never been able to find anything to match her fantasy in her usual shopping places. Now she was faced with a rack of them. Her breath caught in her throat.

 

She snatched three of the most interesting colors in her size, and marched back to where John sat, sipping his tea and trying to ignore--bless him--the hovering sales girl.

 

His eyes lit up when she returned, taking her breath away once more with how alive he always seemed to come when their eyes met.

 

"Try them on," he urged when Meg held the dresses up for his perusal.

 

Meg paused for a moment, then gestured the saleswoman to show her to the fitting rooms. It would, at least, get the cat away from John for a moment or two.

 

Meg slipped into the first cheongsam, luxuriating in the feeling of silk against her skin. The dress fit beautifully, clinging in all the right places. Meg admired herself for a moment or two, smoothing the dress down. She reached up and pulled the clip out of her hair, allowing it to cascade down to her shoulders.

 

Damn, she looked good, if she had to say so herself.

 

She opened the fitting room door, and fixed John with her best seductive stare, then walked towards him in her best imitation of a catwalk slink.

 

His eyes were on her, immediately appreciative, eyes lingering on the long side slit that seemed to go up almost to her hip.

 

"Yes," he said simply, his eyes saying much more.

 

Meg returned to the fitting room and repeated the action for the other two garments. Each was met with similar approval. He stopped her before she went back to remove the last dress.

 

Before Meg knew what she was about, John was ordering the sales lady to search out matching shoes for each dress, insisting that Meg go back to the rack and choose at least two more colors. Soon, the young saleswoman, accompanied this time by one of her colleagues returned with the shoes, several pashimi shawls and other complementary accessories. Meg was overwhelmed.

 

John on the other hand, seemed to brighten with each offering. He seemed to be vastly enjoying the shopping experience.

 

Still, Meg was uncomfortable with the outlay he was intent on making on her behalf. She called a halt to the proceedings, agreeing after some discussion to the array of dresses, two shawls of neutral hue that would go with all of them, and similarly, two pairs of shoes that would suit. She waved away all the jewelry except for a coordinated necklace, earring and bracelet set in a Chinese theme and a wristwatch to replace the one the shower had killed the other day. . The financial damage done to John's bank balance by these items was substantial enough, her conscience moderately assuaged by deducting out the items she turned away from what the damage might have been.

 

Meg was turning away to finally don her own clothing once again, when John reached for her hand, pulling her towards him.

 

She eased herself onto his lap, meeting his eyes.

 

"Wear that one," John said, pulling her closer until their lips met, the kiss deepening until Meg felt quite dizzy and not a little self conscious. Moving her head back, she glanced at the sales girl, who looked at her with intent envy.

 

Meg concentrated on throwing the hussy a look that proclaimed, unabashedly, her own possessiveness of John. Then she leaned in to give John a kiss of her own.

 

Meg threw the last of the shopping bags into the trunk of the car, shaking her head once again at the sheer number of bags and their estimated cost between herself and the two Lee women. She shuddered, then walked to her side of the car. She cast a glance at Liu Shen and Lee Ma, happily chatting in the back seat in Cantonese, then turned an appraising look to John.

 

"You're exhausted. Time to get you home," Meg commented.

 

"You look beautiful, Meg," John said, his eyes looking her up and down appreciatively.

 

"And you look bankrupt. Really John, you need me around just to help you manage your money. That was totally unnecessary, back there. I should go in and return everything."

 

"But you won't?" John asked, his voice a question and a demand all at once.

 

"I won't. If you promise not to do this again. You really can't afford shenanigans like this, and I can't quite get my brain around being a kept woman. I'm not used to this sort of thing, John."

 

"You are not a kept woman," John said solemnly as she put the key in the ignition.

 

"Thank you for your incredible generosity, John. I am truly very grateful. But by accepting these beautiful things, by living in your apartment, I am a kept woman. You're paying for everything, I'm not used to that. I'm not very comfortable with it. That is one of the reasons I don't want to stay in the loft while you are gone to Seattle."

 

"I meant no disrespect, Meg. Quite the opposite." John replied as Meg negotiated the traffic, turning the car away from Beverly Hills proper and toward John's condominium building. "And I would still prefer you to stay in my home."

 

"I know, John," Meg reached out and squeezed his left hand. "You make me feel cherished and adored. I've never felt that way before. This is my problem, up here, in my head. It will take some getting used to, is all."

 

John nodded. He was silent for a moment, then smiled, "I liked it, back there, when you referred to me as ‘husband'," he admitted quietly.

 

Meg smiled in return, "I had to do something to throw that shameless hussy off the scent. For all the good it did. I don't think you appreciate the devastating effect you have on women."

 

"I care about only one woman and the effect I have on her. You." John countered.

 

"I rather enjoyed calling you husband, too," Meg admitted. It was true, but why was she admitting this, now? When danger loomed so close?

 

"Marry me, Meg," John asked.

 

Meg almost crashed the car.

 

 

CHAPTER 16: FLOODING DARKNESS

 

"Jesus John, what a thing to ask a girl driving through downtown Los Angeles traffic."

 

They were in the condo security elevator, Lee Ma and Liu Shen still looking rather pale and shaken from their close call.

 

"My apologies." John said mildly.

 

"I've got to have some time to think, John, It isn't everyday I get a proposal. I'll get back to you on that, okay? "

 

John smiled, mindful that she had at least not turned him down flat and had now brought up the subject of an answer with no prompting. He had immediately regretted his impetuous question, he knew that Meg required careful handling, and yet had still blurted out the proposal willy-nilly in the worst possible manner at the worst possible time. Perhaps his tiredness had affected his good judgment.

 

They had nearly been rear-ended when Meg slammed on the brakes in response to his declaration. As it was they were the target of some loud honking, rude gesturing and no little amount of threatening posturing that had John placing his hand on the gun in his pocket. Fortunately, nothing had come of it, and with a mild curse, Meg had composed herself and got the car moving again without further incident.

 

It was then, however, that John had picked up on the tail he had sensed but not been able to detect all this long day. Given Meg's sudden stop in the middle of traffic, anyone following them would have had to take emergency action as well. John had noted a similar near miss a few cars back. It had almost been worth the near catastrophe to finally see his "shadow".

 

The elevator doors opened, and Meg marched into the loft ahead of everyone else, still seeming somewhat discomposed. She threw her parcels on one end of the couch and moved to the black lacquered dinner table where her laptop computer sat. John ushered his sister and mother into the loft, murmuring soothing words in Cantonese to both of them, apologizing for his rude behavior

 

Lui Shen turned to smile at him replying to him in their mother tongue, &lt;"I am proud of you for asking her, Jian. Now you must not pressure her. Let your forthcoming separation work its magic. You will have the answer you crave when you return to her."&gt;

 

John smiled at her indulgently, nodding his head. &lt;"If I survive the parting. It will be difficult to leave her behind."&gt; More so, he thought, because he feared for her safety while he was gone. If only she would agree to come along. But she seemed adamantly opposed to the idea.

 

Her bullheadedness was part of her charm...

 

&lt;"Ma and I should begin packing, brother.&gt;" Liu Shen said, hoisting her parcels between them.

 

John nodded and watched as sister and mother passed Meg--busily engaged at her laptop computer-- on their way upstairs. He sat down on the couch, tired to the core of his soul, his eyes lingering on the woman he hoped would yet consent to be his wife.

 

If he was fortunate, those who hunted him would follow him to Seattle and leave Meg alone. He still wished he could convince her to stay in the loft, where her safety could be assured. Although she had beefed up her own security measures at her apartment, they were still not adequate to withstand another armed assault.

 

John mused at the central mystery of his predicament. He had been followed since his arrival from China, but no attempts had been made on his life, no direct threat had presented itself. Why?

 

He rose from the couch. The loft had a phone line dedicated to computer use, as well as the usual land line, while Meg was distracted with her laptop computer, he could still make a couple of calls.

 

The first number he dialed was that of the concierge, with a request for two items he had been wanting to pick up himself, but had not had the opportunity. That oversight taken care of, he then called Lau Ruong-Jie.

 

The monk's cheerful voice responded in English on the other end of the phone connection. John identified himself, then switched to Cantonese.

 

&lt;"Any word from the brothers?"&gt; John asked, glancing in Meg's direction as he spoke. &lt;"Vague rumors only, Jian. Something about a relation to Wei. Big in Hong Kong triads, now looking to salvage what he can of Wei's money and enterprises. He likes to call himself 'The Dragon' Still trying to connect a name to him."&gt;

 

&lt;"He is likely behind the pursuit in China and the surveillance here?"&gt; John mused over the information, trying to come to grips with a threat that had been invisible and now was manifesting itself. He was weary of these phantoms of his old life.

 

&lt;"Yes. Word is that he is on his way to the States. To Los Angeles. Soon."&gt; Ruong offered quietly.

 

&lt;"Ruong-Jie, I need your help."&gt; John stated, pausing.

 

&lt;"I have pledged my assistance, old comrade, whatever you need, you have only to ask."&gt; The reassurance was strong, resolute.

 

&lt;"I take my family to my mother's brother in Seattle, day after tomorrow. They will be safe and protected there, it is where they will live permanently."&gt;

 

&lt;"What about Meg?&gt; the monk asked.

 

John was grateful that his friend had mentioned her name so that he did not draw her attention to the conversation by speaking it himself.

 

&lt;"She chooses to stay behind. For now. I would send her to you, but I fear she would not go. She will not even stay in my loft. She insists on returning to her apartment. I need your help, to protect her, watch over her. If this relation of Wei's is like himself, she could become a target of their attention. We have been observed together, time and again. It could not be helped, but it is regrettable."&gt;

 

&lt;"I will watch over her while you are gone. How long will you be away?&gt; Ruong -Jie asked.

 

&lt;"As little time as possible. A week, hopefully less. I have promised my mother and sister to get them settled in a new home as quickly as possible. Our relatives are already scouting possible condominiums and apartments. My uncle can then watch over and protect them, while I come back to Los Angeles to deal with this threat. Head on."&gt;

 

&lt;"I will be at your disposal for however long you need me. I will clear my schedule immediately. Don't worry, Jian. I will protect her."&gt;

 

John sighed, &lt;"I cannot help but worry, Ruong. If only I could convince her to come with me. Or to stay in this secure building. She is strong willed."&gt;

 

Ruong gave a small chuckle, &lt;"In that respect, you are well matched, my friend. Give me your airline information."&gt;

 

John did so from memory.

 

Meg hunched over her computer, half listening to John speak Cantonese to the monk Ruong -Jie. She might not understand his mother tongue, but she could pick out the familiar name, none the less.

 

As John spoke to his friend, Meg was putting the finishing touches on her e- mail to Zedkov detailing her plan. It was a simple one, she would use herself as bait to draw John's pursuers. Zedkov would undoubtedly object, but in the end, she was his best hope of preventing the Wei legacy from being born anew, like a phoenix rising from the ashes of its ruin. He'd probably get a promotion for nipping a new gang threat in the bud, and she would have John, alive and finally safe.

 

Meg had had to edit and reedit her message to Zeedo several times. Even now, she made changes, detecting errors she had made.

 

John had proposed to her. Asked her to be his wife.

 

The shock of it all was still reverberating inside her brain, creating the distraction that caused the many errors in her message, and her current state of surprised numbness.

 

Meg should have expected that the question might come, but nothing had really prepared her for the reality of it. She'd found herself paralyzed, unable to think--let alone drive the car. She was embarrassed that her first reaction had been to stomp down on the brakes of the car, nearly getting them all killed.

 

She'd been rendered speechless as well, not uttering a word until she'd made her comment to John in the elevator on the way up to the loft. John was probably wondering why she'd done nothing but stall him for the answer he wanted her to give.

 

Her immediate reaction had been to scream "Yes!" at the top of her lungs. But she had not.

 

The old doubts and fears kept her mute, the new threat facing them casting such a dark shadow that it was all she could do to live in the moment and craft her plan to deal with it. If there was to be a future, she could not think about it yet. Could not allow herself to crave it too much.

 

So much could still happen. She didn't dare to dream.

 

Finally, Meg was satisfied with her message to Zedkov and with the touch of a key, sent it off.

 

John had hung up the phone by the time she powered down the laptop and closed its case. She turned in her chair to watch him as he walked toward her, his face solemn, worried. He sat down in the chair next to her, took her hand in both of his.

 

"I will ask one more time, Meg. Will you please stay here, in this loft, while I am gone to Seattle?"

 

Meg noted the tired worry in his eyes and ached to soothe the turmoil she saw there. But she did not want to lie to him any more than she already had, and those were sins of omission, not commission.

 

"I can't John. I wouldn't feel right. I need to keep myself preoccupied while you are gone--I'd go crazy here alone." Meg said softly.

 

"You must promise me to be careful. To stay in your apartment as much as possible until I get back. Not to accept any document assignments while I am gone. I have arranged to cover your rent with your landlord."

 

Meg opened her mouth as though to protest, wondering when he had arranged that, but John waved her to silence.

 

"Promise me, Meg." John repeated.

 

Meg hesitated, then decided she would not be lying if she agreed. She was always careful where her own life was concerned after all.

 

"I promise you, Li Jian-Hui, that I will be careful, as long as you promise to hurry back." John's expression was filled with tenderness. He brought her hand up to his lips and kissed it, abashing her once again.

 

"I promise." John said quietly.

 

After a moment of silence between them John spoke again. "We know each other, without knowing each other. I would like to know more about you Meg, and to share my past with you, so that there are no mysteries, no surprises." John said looking at her carefully.

 

Meg nodded.

 

John began.

 

She'd known some of it, of course. From those frenetic days back in early February. But the picture that emerged as John spoke, slowly, methodically, precisely, sometimes searching for words, opened a whole new world of understanding to Meg, and made it easier for her to reveal more of herself than she ever had to any living human being.

 

Interrupted only by the arrival of a package from the concierge John and Meg talked for hours. The bond that already existed between them grew and deepened in the sharing.

 

John spoke of his years as a soldier in the Red Chinese Army. The things he had been forced to do when first inducted into the military as a youth during the Cultural Revolution. His increasing torment and shame as one of those he was forced to help in the "reeducation" of was his own father. Where he had skimmed over the information before, he spoke in detail now, sharing emotions, dreams, promises, disappointments, torments, torture. Meg saw how Wei's sinister offer might have seemed a godsend and the lesser of two evils.

 

His three "tasks" for Wei had not been offered to him all at once. The first task bought the life and future escape of his mother and had been undertaken almost twenty years before. The second, coming some fifteen years later, had bought his own permanent passage--the Canadian citizenship papers that Meg herself had removed from his safe. The last task had been meant to buy the freedom of his sister. That was the job he had failed at, finally rebelling that the killing of a child was the price to be paid, the one that had become due and payable six months ago.

 

In between the contracted tasks, John had been forced to do others, buying the right by each string of favors done, to bring sooner the next freedom passage. Not all had been contract hits, far more plentiful were the duties of an underground triad foot soldier, some for Wei's operations in China, Hong Kong and other parts of Asia, some in the United States.

 

At first he'd been paid a living stipend, that kept him and by extension, his family in food and clothing and shelter, and provided for not much else. As he had proved his value and trustworthiness, Wei, with insidious cunning, had used increases in payment to draw their agreement out. He had steadily increased the money paid to John and at the same time multiplying the number of duties required to buy the next "freedom pass". It was easy to see how John had seen no alternatives. How he had been caught in the web for so long, to understand how close to killing his soul he'd been brought.

 

If she had known she had loved him before, the truth he told her now increased the depth and breadth of that love one hundred fold. Meg listened in rapt attention, her eyes frequently filling unashamedly with the tears she hated under normal circumstances to shed, tears of empathy and shared pain.

 

For her part, her own sorry childhood, teenage and adult life seemed to pale in comparison, but she shared, in kind, the horrors of her youth. Her father's alcoholism. Her mother's utter dependency on her husband and abuse by him. The beatings she herself had endured during her father's drunken rages. Her history of being a runaway, then a young teenager caught in an inefficient and sometimes corrupt foster system. Her struggles to escape the specter of physical, mental and imminent sexual abuse that system sometimes exposed its wards to. It all came tumbling out.

 

The empathy, understanding and love that she saw reflected in John's eyes had removed the shame that she'd felt deep down, consciously unacknowledged for her entire life. Never again would anyone hear the detail, the secrets, the fears and torments--but in telling John she found a way to release some of the demons that had always hounded her.

 

She knew for the first time in this beautifully alive thing that was her relationship with John Lee, what it was to trust and have that trust returned. Utterly, absolutely, irrevocably.

 

They were bound together forever, she realized, by shared pain and love. If she'd known it before, the truth resonated in every nook, cranny and corner of her being. John was hers. She was his. It would never be any other way.

 

Now all they both had to do was survive to enjoy it.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 17: DESTINY IS THE MANDATE OF HEAVEN

 

John and Meg spent one last, wonderful day together in the loft, glorying in the closeness that they both felt with his mother and sister as well as reveling in their own deepening bond.

 

Meg had become, since she had brought her laptop to the loft, a walking encyclopedia regarding the Pacific Northwest in general and Seattle and its environs in particular. She seemed to have spent hours gathering information about weather, real estate, employment, education and related topics. This day she regaled and dazzled them all with her new found knowledge.

 

Lee Ma, growing more comfortable in her new freedom, had been attempting more English as time went on, gently encouraged by her family and Meg to do so. To reciprocate, she began teaching Meg some rudiments of Cantonese, laughing delightedly when the occasional error in tonal quality resulted in meaning quite at odds--sometimes obscenely so-- with what she tried to teach. Meg vowed to remember some of her malapropos for future use, so colorful they would be as expletives.

 

Meg had yet to answer his proposal, but John was willing to wait, to allow the time she needed to come to the realization, to take that final step. He knew their evening of mutual confession had propelled forward the trust that was so necessary to building a lasting relationship.

 

John could almost have forgotten the danger that loomed over them, had not the dual fear of their imminent parting and Meg's safety not been so foremost in his mind. He had wracked his brain for alternatives to the situation, but none presented themselves, as long as Meg refused to come with them.

 

He had considered abandoning plans to move his mother and sister to Seattle, to deal with the unfinished business before deciding on any move.

 

But John was keenly aware of the price that had been paid by both mother and sister being disconnected from family for so many years. His mother deserved to live near her surviving family, to have the comfort of sisters, brothers, nieces and nephews--all that the extended family represented. It was something she'd missed, thanks to him and the greater political environment, and he felt duty bound to restore some of that loss to her.

 

He accepted as a given, that Liu Shen would choose to stay with her mother. Hopefully she would not use that as an excuse not to live her own life. John hoped for his sister no less than what he now enjoyed himself, the love of someone special, the promise of a better future than the past.

 

If he did not act now, he could not be assured that he would survive to complete this duty to his family.

 

For himself, he would make a home wherever Meg chose to live. He would live in Los Angeles with her if that was her choice, if she could not bring herself to leave the only home city she'd ever known. Or if she expressed an interest in going anywhere else, he would make it happen. For himself, so long stateless and without firm ties to any one place, the only thing that mattered was that he was with Meg.

 

He must concentrate on surviving to fulfill that hearts desire.

 

The day had been long and perfect, Meg had basked in these last hours of closeness and companionability.

 

She tried desperately not to think of what tomorrow would bring. Another parting. Temporary this time, it was to be hoped. But if life had taught her anything, it was that there were no assurances. No matter how much they wished it to be otherwise, they might not ever be together again.

 

She endeavored to make those last hours perfect, memorable--in case she would need to make them do for the rest of her life however short or long it might be.

 

Lee Ma and Liu Shen had determined to take their last night's meal in one of the building's secure private dining rooms, conveniently leaving John and Meg time to themselves. Ordering up a sumptuous meal of John's favorite foods--information thoughtfully provided by mother and sister sometime earlier--Meg had dressed carefully for dinner. She taken extra pains to present herself in the prettiest of the cheongsams, taking special care with hair and makeup.

 

Rather than sit across the table from each other, They sat closely by each other, Meg feeding John, and he in the spirit of the evening, in turn feeding her. They ate slowly, making the meal into in intensely sensual experience.

 

After the meal, Meg announced her intention for a long soothing shower and began a striptease that ended up with them both in the shower, something of a reversal of their first evening together in John's living space and ending in a similar manner.

 

They fell into the bed in a tangle of towels and bed sheets, John giving a slight grunt of pain as his wounded shoulder made contact with the mattress. Meg, solicitous, touched the healing wound with the lightest of touches, soothing and massaging the shoulder, trailing kisses along his collarbone, onto his throat, John reciprocated with his own sensuous touch and series of kisses, their lips finally meeting, their bodies joining.

 

There was an intensity to their lovemaking this evening that had never existed between them before. Each striving to give the other the solace tonight that they would need in the days of separation to come.

 

Meg felt herself shatter into a million shards of glass, the exquisite pleasure of the moment seeming to transport her to another place, where fear did not exist and there was nothing but the two of them and the love they shared. The essence of John's being was like a bright light, bathing her in love and adoration, protective, possessive in the best meaning of the word, offering her the ultimate in freedom.

 

With her body she communicated her devotion, returning pleasure for pleasure, until they both hovered near insensibility.

 

They were two souls who had once been lost, riven apart by fate and circumstances. In this moment at this time, they again became as one soul, completely and irrevocably coalesced together.

 

Dawn inevitably came, bringing with it the pang, immediately felt upon wakening that having just found each other, they again must part.

 

Meg tried to force the new day away, burrowing deeply into John's arms, trying to commit to memory every aspect of him.

 

The flight to Seattle was scheduled for noon, and inevitably there was no choice but to rise and prepare.

 

She had watched John rise from the bed, and move to dress himself, using this small separation as a test for the larger one to come. Already she found it difficult to breathe, her arms and legs seemed leaden.

 

Meg felt wooden, clumsy, as awkward as a newborn foal. She struggled to rise and dress herself, fumbling with buttons, looking upon zippers hardly thought of before as miraculous new inventions with which she had no familiarity.

 

She looked up at one point, to see John watching her, the tenderness and concern she saw in his eyes warming her and chilling her all at the same time.

 

She would marry him. She knew that. Wanted to shout out the answer to him that he was patiently waiting for.

 

But the words died in her throat. She would wait, until they were both safe, any and all threats banished forever. It was the only way she would be able to do what she must in the days to come.

 

John approached her finally, holding the parcel the concierge had delivered the night before last. So great had her distraction been, that she'd forgotten of its existence, coming as it had in the middle of their evening of mutual confession to each other.

 

"I want you to have this. I want to know that I can talk to you any time I have the wish," John was saying, "and that you can do likewise."

 

Meg accepted the cell phone, her numbed brain refusing at first to recognize the device. She looked at John, lost and confused.

 

He sat down next to her, touching her face.

 

"They are programmed that one touch--here," John demonstrated, and the phone in her hand jumped to loud life. John deactivated the call, even as Meg jumped involuntarily at the noise, "will bring us together. If we will have nothing else for the next few days, we will have the comfort of knowing that we are but one touch away from each other."

 

Meg nodded, tears forming unbidden and unwanted in her eyes. She didn't want to cry. Not now.

 

She wasn't often speechless, but she was this morning. Fearing that if she opened her mouth she would throw all caution to the winds and either confess her plot or beg him to run off with her to some new life, somewhere very far away, where they could begin anew. As tempting as the idea might be, she knew it would only delay the inevitable. They'd found him in China, they'd found him here. Eventually they would find John Lee anywhere. As much as she wanted that new life, she wanted it to be unencumbered by the past, free from the fear that now consumed her for her beloved John's safety.

 

So she stayed mute, for a while longer.

 

She was silent all the way to the airport. She drove her car purposefully, but at the same time looked at John as much as she dared, wanting to impress every breath he took into her memory. Her pain was so intense, she wondered if she were dying.

 

If only things could be different...if only....

 

John studied Meg quietly, even as she watched him. His sister and mother, sensing the charged atmosphere between the two, had been silent as well, studying determinedly the city they were leaving behind.

 

He was worried at Meg's silence. He could feel her tension along the bond they shared, suspected that there was more to her disquiet than the fact of their parting today, as substantial as that was.

 

His own fear was palpable. He had seldom felt the bone chilling kind of fear that he felt now--having distanced himself from his emotions all these many years. It wasn't anxiety for himself, or even for his family--it was the exquisite torture of worry for the woman he loved.

 

She was spirited, she was strong. She was determined, and he loved her all the more for being who and what she was. But he knew also that she could be careless of herself. She was brave, heroic, and that could lead her to danger.

 

He'd talked to Ruong Jie this morning, while Meg had dressed. He would be meeting them at the airport. He had to trust that his old comrade from their army days together still retained the capabilities that they'd both possessed then. That he could protect Meg, from external harm and also from herself.

 

Meg struggled to put on a brave face, a nonchalant air as they approached the departure gate. The monk, Lau Ruong-Jie had joined them at baggage check in wearing street clothes and a determined air. Had Meg been in fuller possession of her senses, she might have wondered at his presence. Instead she allowed herself to be distracted from the curiosity of it by exchanging heartfelt goodbyes with Lee Ma and Liu Shen, her mouth forming the words of a promise that their parting would be a short one.

 

Then the moment came. John was standing before her, much as he had six months ago, looking at her with heartbreaking tenderness.

 

"I will miss you," he said softly, repeating now what he had said then.

 

"Lee Ma has your medicine, and your dressings. Don't give her any arguments about either one," Meg said finally, her voice husky from tension.

 

John nodded and smiled. "I won't," he promised sincerely.

 

"I know its only a two hour flight or so. But don't do what you did the last time you were on an airplane and forget to drink liquids. I don't want to hear about you landing with another case of dehydration."

 

"Understood," John agreed, a twitch of amusement playing at his cupid's bow lips.

 

"And whatever you do, don't you dare come back to me again with any bullet holes in you. You hear me? I don't want to ever go through that again!" Meg's voice reached a higher octave than she would have cared it to, had she had any shred of self consciousness left to her.

 

John grinned at her then--his delightful laugh--never heard often enough. He took her face between his hands and drew her close.

 

It was less of a kiss, though it was also that, than an avowal of all his love, tenderness and adoration. Meg's head reeled as she came up for air.

 

She looked at him for a moment, her soul in her very eyes, then she threw herself into his arms and without a shred of self awareness, she kissed him so deeply that he was warmed by the action all the way to Seattle.

 

Then he turned, and shepherding sister and mother before him, vanished into the crowd at the departure gate.

 

CHAPTER 18: GAZING INTO THE PIT

 

Meg turned at the touch on her arm, meeting the empathetic eyes of Lau Ruong-Jie. She didn't know how long she'd stood there, transfixed, hoping to catch just one more glimpse of John among the throng.

 

Meg wiped away tears that she hadn't been aware she'd shed, and gave John's friend a small apologetic smile.

 

"It would honor me to see you home," Ruong-Jie said quietly, his voice soothing.

 

"I'm going back to my apartment, not John's place," Meg stated, not sure why she volunteered the information, "I have my things in the car."

 

"Wherever you would go, I will accompany you. Partly out of pleasure for your company, Miss Coburn, but also because John would have my head if I did not." Ruong put a dry twist to the last few words, his expression one of mock sufferance.

 

Meg laughed at the sly admission, the first genuine amusement she'd felt all day.

 

"He's overly protective," Meg smiled, casting her glance down toward the floor, ashamed that she was tearing up again.

 

"Of course. He loves you," Ruong replied, the statement one of simple fact. "Jian does not love lightly."

 

Meg looked up once more, her tear ducts fully under control, "I know. And please, I'm Meg. No more Miss Coburn. I'd be grateful for your company, Lau Ruong-Jie. You have a car?"

 

"No, I do not own one, even in this city, part of my vows. I rely on public transportation."

 

"Then maybe it should be me taking you home?" Meg countered.

 

It was Ruong-Jie's turn to laugh. "No need. And it’s Ruong, please."

 

Meg smiled, nodded then turned and walked down the concourse toward the ticketing area and exit, Ruong Jie keeping pace with her.

 

She saw Zedkov walking toward her, making his way to the departure gate areas, his manner casual. He did not make eye contact with her until they were nearly even with each other, at which time he flashed her a covert thumbs up. It was a prearranged signal between them, that Zeedo had his Seattle bound detective on John's flight and had been successful in arranging seating near the Lee family. Meg nodded imperceptibly.

 

She hoped that her companion had not seen the exchange. She cast a glance in his direction. He seemed oblivious. She dared to breathe a little easier.

 

"So Ruong, what can you tell me about Li Jian-Hui?"

 

Ruong-Jie gave a broad smile, "How long do you have?"

 

The jet climbed to cruising altitude, and the seat belt light turned off. Liu Shen turned from watching her mother, who sat in the window seat position of their row watching Los Angeles retreat below, to look at her brother.

 

Parting with Meg had been difficult for him, she knew. He sat stiff and silent in the aisle seat, his eyes closed as though in deep concentration. There was strain in his features that was not readily apparent to a stranger, but which leapt out at Liu Shen now. He seemed to be in physical pain.

 

Liu Shen touched his left arm. &lt;"Does your shoulder pain you, brother?"&gt; she asked softly in Cantonese.

 

He opened his eyes and regarded her silently for a moment. He shook his head, and laid his right hand, still moving stiffly, over his heart. He said nothing verbally, put patted his chest slowly, his eyes speaking volumes of anguish.

 

Liu Shen nodded, patted his left hand solicitously, then took it in her own. He closed his eyes again, laying his head back against the headrest of his seat.

 

Li Jian-Hui had found his heart again, and had been forced to leave her behind.

 

Meg walked slowly through her apartment. Lau Ruong-Jie had just left after helping her transfer her accumulated belongings from her car up to her apartment.

 

She knew that John had left instruction with his friend to watch over her and protect her, and half imagined him camped out in one of the empty office/ apartments on another floor of her building. No matter, she had to hope that her street sense would enable her to shake any tail that he might attempt. If not, she might have to ask Zedkov to run interference, when the time came.

 

Everywhere she looked there were reminders of John. The clothing he'd worn on the plane from China was still draped across one of her chairs, her intention to have the suit dry cleaned forgotten. Bandage material still sat on the bedside table, the bed itself in disarray from their stolen hours of lovemaking only three days ago.

 

The void of his leaving was huge, Meg felt as though she were on the lip of a great chasm, gravity pulling her inexorably toward its edge, so great was her feeling of grief and emptiness.

 

She laid down on her bed, fully clothed and curled into a fetal ball, pulling the bedclothes close around her. Tears that she'd held in for hours poured out of her as she gave vent to her sense of loss.

 

She allowed herself the rest of the day to mourn. The next morning, she hit the ground running.

 

The man looked at his reflection in the rear view mirror, frowning over the scars he saw on his face. He'd been proud of his good looks, loved the effect he'd had on women. All that was gone now. If women looked at him at all, it was with a sense of pity at best, at worst, revulsion.

 

They said it had been a miracle he had lived at all, riddled with bullets as he'd been. Any number should have been fatal. His life had been despaired of for many weeks, he'd endured countless surgeries. He'd spent most of the past six months hospitalized under armed guard, cursing the gwailo police who'd flooded Chinatown the night Wei had died.

 

They had pulled him from Wei's car, detected the smallest signs of life and had him airlifted to the nearest trauma center. The marvels of modern medicine which could literally bring a dead man back to life, or something like it.

 

He cursed the police and doctors almost as much as he cursed the man who had reduced him to such a pitiable state: John Lee.

 

Only a few weeks ago he had been scheduled to complete his recovery in a secure rehabilitation center, until deemed well enough to stand trial. He'd been stronger than even his doctor had known, and had managed, with the aid of some of his surviving compatriots, to escape.

 

The remnants of Wei's organization were few and disoriented by the sweeping destruction of the gang. He'd gathered a few of the old hands together, assumed authority over them by right of his position in Wei's inner circle. They'd escaped Los Angeles, disappearing into the underground of San Francisco's Chinatown.

 

There they had plotted and planned, and he'd grown stronger and fitter. He'd never be the man he had once been. But he was well enough for what he had to do.

 

Thinking to spare him the effort and risk and to prove their acceptance of him as their leader, two of his closest comrades had hunted down John Lee in southern China and attempted save him the trouble of killing the renegade.

 

It was the will of the gods that they ended up dead, leaving John Lee alive to face a more personal retribution.

 

The scarred man pulled the car onto the freeway, leaving San Francisco behind. Lee was in Seattle, he could afford to take his time returning to Los Angeles. He might do some sightseeing along the way, buy a few souvenirs.

 

The rumors he'd started would be spreading nicely by now, passed from tongue to tongue until they took on the ring of the truth. They would serve to distract attention away from him and the true plan. Relations back in China had even spread them there. His diversionary tactic taking on a life of its own.

 

His old snitch Loco was incredibly useful at times. He wondered if the youth would be interested in a position in the gang he'd form once he'd retrieved as much of Wei's money as he could, after he'd killed John Lee.

 

Mr. Wei had been a wise teacher. His instruction in the finer points of wreaking revenge would be put to good use. John Lee would die all right, begging to be put out of his misery after watching his woman die before his eyes.

 

He looked forward to seeing Meg Coburn again. His months of physical therapy hadn't done a damn thing to ease the discomfort of the damage she'd inflicted on his knee at Eddie's car wash.

 

He still owed her for that one.

 

Meg fixed Loco with a steely stare. They stood in the middle of the arcade he still ran, redecorated to hide the aftereffects of the gun battle that had taken place there six months ago. Loco was her last stop in a long couple of days of touching bases with her street contacts.

 

She'd saved the most dangerous for last.

 

"Ever find your ride, Loc?" She asked, smiling a smile she hoped was not too feral.

 

The young hispanic looked at her with a mixture of salacious interest and wariness.

 

"Oh yeah, Meg. Right where you and your friend left it for me. Two blocks from a police station, wadn't it? And light some serious firepower."

 

"Used it all, Loc. I'm sure you read about it in the papers."

 

"So, your friend waitin' for you outside? Heard he was back." Loco craned his neck, looking around Meg as though expecting to see John Lee appear somewhere behind her.

 

"I'm his agent now. I'm looking after his financial matters while he's out of town for a few days."

 

Loco raised an eyebrow at her. "And this would involve me, how?"

 

"It doesn't. I just wanted you to know that there will be some new action in town from now on. Lots of money to go around. New boss. Remember who took Wei down."

 

"How do I know you aren't bullshitting me, Meg? And you were always a lightweight. Why should I believe anything coming out of your beautiful mouth?"

 

Meg fixed him with her best imperious stare. "You don't need to believe, Loco, just sit back and watch. And keep out of our way. My man and I never forget a rat."

 

Loco leered at her, "I'm shakin', Meg, I'm shakin'."

 

"Suit yourself. Might want to come out and see my ride, though."

 

Meg turned and stalked from the arcade out into the late afternoon sun. She paused for dramatic effect before climbing into the back seat of the sleek black limousine.

 

Loco was at the entrance of the arcade as she'd hoped, watching her carefully. She flashed him a brilliant smile through the open window of the limo, then activated the electronic control that raised the tinted glass.

 

Zedkov peered at her from underneath his chauffeur's cap. "How'd it go?"

 

Meg pulled the jacket of her designer suit down around her hips and leaned back in the seat.

 

"Hard to say, Zeedo. Can't ever be sure which side of the street that bastard is working. He's at least sitting up and taking notice."

 

"I'm still not sure I like this Meg. I shouldn't be involving a civilian in an operation like this."

 

"You need me, Zeedo. Admit it. And it never stopped you before. I was a civilian the last time too. Now, shall we get going before Loc has time to think too much? It's a foreign activity for him, to be sure"

 

Zedkov shook his head ruefully, and started the car. "Yes, ma'am!"

 

Their masquerade involved her returning to the loft, the upscale address giving credence to the rumor of new-old money in town. Zedkov saw her safely in the private elevator, then left, to return the limousine to the police impound lot via a circuitous, prearranged route. .

 

She had to trust that the police tail which had shadowed them all day would detect any interested parties following and that their sting would be secure. They were the professionals and while trust came hard to her, she had no choice. Ideally, if the rumor mill and window dressing did its job, they might have results before John was due to come back from Seattle.

 

Her intention was not to stay here for long. The cavernous loft seemed too empty with John and his family gone. She'd lay low until after dark and make her way back to her apartment then.

 

She entered the loft, activating the lights, moving into the common area.

 

Too empty. Too lonely. It would be difficult to stay here for the remaining hours left until sunset.

 

Meg pulled the cell phone from her suit pocket as she lowered her five foot eleven frame onto the black leather couch. She gazed at it for a moment, her finger twitching over the program button.

 

She and John had spoken several times since his arrival in Seattle. She knew that their flight had been uneventful, and that Lee Ma's reunion with her family had been everything that John had hoped it would be. Advance scouting by the relatives had secured at least two highly likely prospects for their permanent home, near her brother and his extended family in Bellevue, across Lake Washington from Seattle proper.

 

He would be back as soon as the final decision was made, financial arrangements taken care of and papers signed. Inside a week he had hoped.

 

She wanted to hear his voice, went through the ritual of taking the phone out several times a day, tempted to call just to hear him. But she limited herself to one call a day, a test of her self control. Leave him to do what he had to and he'd be back that much sooner.

 

Which put immediacy to her plan with Zedkov. A double edged sword. Police intelligence had it that the mysterious "Dragon" would be arriving in Los Angeles soon, perhaps as early as tomorrow. She had to hope that her actions of the last two days would bear some fruit, gain some attention.

 

She put the cell phone away, patting it into her pocket again.

 

Later, once she was in her apartment, she would call and indulge herself in speaking to the man she loved more than life itself. Until then she would bide her time quietly in the loft so filled with life and happiness a few days ago.

 

The Grand Guignol began in earnest tomorrow.

 

Ruong Jie shadowed Meg as she slipped out of the loft after dark, moving furtively once she'd cleared the parking structure. He had not been entirely truthful to her about his mode of transportation. It was true he did not personally own a car, but he had one at his disposal in this far flung city.

 

He had only known that the car that left the building was driven by Meg because of the access Jian had given him to the structure that contained his loft. Her own car had never moved from its berth in the garage down the street from her Olive building apartment.

 

He had followed her these last days, puzzling at the strange activity she'd undertaken, unsure whether or not to report it to his old comrade.

 

There had been, at the first, the mysterious exchange between Meg Coburn and the unknown man at the airport. She'd been circumspect and nonchalant, but Ruong had noticed his flashed thumbs up and her covert acknowledgment.

 

She taken a cab and gone shopping early on the morning after the Lee family had left for Seattle, emerged from the shop dressed to the nines and met by a limousine which had proceeded to take her on a tour of several less than savory areas.

 

She had done nothing but talk to several characters. It could be that she was reestablishing contact with some of her document forging connections, trying to stir up business after the forced break in pursuing her livelihood that the arrival of John and his family had presented. She had repeated the activity today.

 

The window dressing was the biggest puzzle. Why the sudden show of monied status?

 

Lau Ruong Jie was a savvy man, but was still growing used to the undercurrents of the city he had adopted as his own when he had come to take Alan Chin's place at the Temple. Perhaps in the trade she had chosen for herself, one needed to look as though they did not need money in order to earn more of it. American culture was still unfolding itself to his understanding.

 

Jian had been convinced that Meg knew little or nothing of the threat looming over him. That she had suspicions, they were both fairly assured, but she had done nothing to indicate concrete knowledge. She certainly was not following John's advice about staying close to her apartment until he returned. Jian had not expected her to.

 

Strong willed, he had called her. It was true. The woman his old friend had fallen in love with was a force to be reckoned with. They would be good together. Ruong did not consider for a moment that whatever Meg's behavior signified, that it was anything intended as harmful to Li Jian-Hui or his family. Jian's trust, never easily given to anyone, was absolute where Meg was concerned and he saw nothing to contradict his friend's belief.

 

Meg almost lost Ruong Jie at a light, whether by accident or design, he could not be sure.

 

He followed her back to the Olive building, watched her slip into the structure from L.A.'s early glory days. He took up his post, waiting until such time as he had arranged to check in with Jian via the cell phone he carried in his pocket.

 

Ruong-Jie was still not sure what to report. If anything. Jian's primary concern was that she remained unmolested during his absence, and thus far she had been. He had not detected any sign of the tail that shadowed John being transferred to Meg. Jian had not asked him to spy on her and report her behavior. He cared for her safety alone.

 

Ruong settled down, and pondered his day, wishing he was more familiar with this new home, a vast sprawling city that was growing more mysterious to him every passing day.

 

 

CHAPTER 19: BREAKING COVER

 

The next day, a nondescript sedan pulled into LA's Chinatown and disappeared into a private parking structure. At the same time a surveillance, based on rumors passed on to the police by usually reliable informants, began on incoming flights from mainland China and Hong Kong. It was soon expanded to all points east of Los Angeles, as updated information filtered in from the street.

 

Meg Coburn spent the day sitting by the phone, or in this case, phones, her land line and her cellular.

 

Slowly going out of her mind.

 

Calls were received all day on the land line, forwarded electronically from the number she'd given out to Loco and his like in her two day trawl through the LA underground. The relay was filtered through a communication center where every call was taped and traced.

 

But the calls had been of little import--the usual street scum looking to align themselves with anyone on the scene who might wield some power and have money to spare.

 

As the day wore down to evening, she'd received periodic updates from Zedkov, who while not at the airport, relayed updates from his men on scene. Thus far the surveillance had been fruitless, no likely candidates for the mysterious triad figure had presented themselves at customs. The surveillance was scheduled to continue for the next several days. Meg knew that she would not be able to sit idly by and wait for something to break.

 

She was going to have to be proactive.

 

Lau Ruong-Jie found himself in the middle of a frantic and confusing forty eight hours. After spending almost two days in relative inactivity, Meg Coburn was again on the move. He had puzzled over her itinerary which ranged from high profile banks to triad run gaming parlors, to high rent office buildings and luxury homes.

 

The limousine didn't make a repeat appearance, but the car she'd taken from John's loft home turned out to be a quietly elegant luxury model, that well suited the professionally dressed young woman who emerged from her apartment.

 

To her credit, she was not an easy subject to pursue, Lau found himself using all his skills just to keep her in sight. He'd been on immediate alert for signs of danger at some of her more unsavory stops, but she had handled herself competently, with no need for his intervention.

 

It had slowly come to him that she was operating with a definite plan in mind. While he could not hope to fathom it, he had become convinced it had nothing whatsoever to do with document forging. Rather, it was almost as though she were setting up a new business, securing financing, opening accounts, looking for office space and living accommodations. Making business contacts.

 

That the contacts were in large in the underground gave him a niggling feeling of suspicion. He'd been very close to calling Jian to see if he could shed any light on her activities, but without solid evidence of what she was up to, he hesitated to do so. He could not follow her so close as to determine how much of what she did was genuine action and how much was for show. Her demeanor was forthright and goal oriented, and aside from her tendency to be surreptitious at the most unexpected times, he didn't doubt that she was carrying on business, though he couldn't guess its legitimacy.

 

But might that not be exactly the image she wished to project?

 

What if he and Jian and been deceived about how much she knew or suspected of the vague threat to Li Jian-Hui? What if she knew precisely as much as they did, and was launching on her own hunt for the mysterious nemesis?

 

What better way to bait a resurgent gang leader, than to present yourself as his rival?

 

Alarm bells went off in Ruong-Jie's head. He reached for his cell phone as he followed Meg back to John's loft.

 

John Lee paced the room, watching Ran Ji-Mu, his mother's brother, speak into the telephone. Ran spoke Mandarin into the handset, paused, waiting for an answer.

 

John Lee chafed that he could not hear both sides of the conversation. he was fluent in the language, followed his uncle's words perfectly, but was impatient for the answers to the questions his relative was asking.

 

A moment later, his uncle disengaged the call, looked at John and spoke in Cantonese.

 

&lt;"It seems the brothers have been misinformed,"&gt; the older man announced, his expression troubled. &lt;"Deliberately misled. There is no 'Dragon', no relative of Wei from Hong Kong triads."&gt;

 

&lt;"Your source?"&gt; John challenged.

 

&lt;"Unimpeachable. Highly placed. If anyone would know, it would be he. Above rumors. He deals only in facts."&gt;

 

John had waited over four days to receive the information, the route that his uncle must take to contact his informant, circuitous, clandestine. John did not know who the contact was, nor did he care to. But he trusted his uncle's faith in the man.

 

This breakthrough coincided with a conclusion to the business end of settling his mother and sister in the Seattle area. The contracts had been signed today, all that remained was for them to arrange to move into the condominium they had both fallen in love with.

 

&lt;"Who then is behind these fabrications? What is their game? We've not been followed here. There have been no threats. Lau Ruong-Jie is satisfied that no one follows Meg."&gt;

 

John's uncle was regarding him with sympathetic concern. Whoever this 'Meg' was, she obviously had captured his nephew's heart. Jian had spoken of her but rarely, but intelligence gleaned from sister and niece informed him that she was the center of Jian-Hui's life. No wonder he'd seemed uneasy and aloof meeting family he'd not seen in decades. It was obvious that his heart and mind were in another place, his true focus far away.

 

&lt;" My informant suggests looking closer to home. Wei's old gang. There was some regrouping in San Francisco of the few not arrested or deported. They've kept a low profile for many months. Only this week has there been noticeable activity. "

 

Further conversation was interrupted by the chiming of a cell phone. Jian grimaced, reached into his pocket and fished out the device.

 

&lt;"Wai?....Ah Ruong!....&gt;"

 

It was Ran Ji Mu's turn to listen to a once sided phone call. He watched as Jian-Hui's demeanor changed from determined concentration to something akin to panic.

 

"I must return to Los Angeles," John announced abruptly deactivating the phone. He'd said it in English, eyes large in a pale face.

 

His uncle nodded.

 

Meg checked her wristwatch, counting the minutes until she could make her way back to her apartment. The loft grew more cavernous and haunted the more she came back to it, her mind playing tricks on her to fill the deathly stillness that surrounded her.

 

She thought she'd heard Lee Ma laugh in one of the upstairs bedrooms, Liu Shen call softly in Cantonese from the stairway. She'd turned around on the couch once, a smile on her face imagining that she'd heard the familiar sound of John's footfalls coming up behind her.

 

She was losing it, she knew. She hadn't slept decently since John had left, the problem compounded by her anxiety that her plan bear fruit before he returned.

 

As the days passed with no breakthroughs, her tension had grown. She wasn't sure how long she'd be able to keep it together at this rate. And her masquerade depended on having a calm demeanor and steady nerves.

 

She took a final look at her wristwatch and gathered her things to leave, instinctively patting the cell phone in her pocket. Without knowing, she accidentally deactivated the device.

 

Meg Coburn took a deep breath and entered the private elevator, her car keys in her hands.

 

Ruong picked up on her car as soon as it exited the parking structure, retreating to his own vehicle once he saw the private elevator from John's loft activated.

 

Li Jian-Hui was even now on his way to board a flight to Los Angeles. Hopefully, he was already talking to Meg on the cellphone, arranging for her to stay in her apartment until he arrived.

 

Ruong had the light at the first intersection beyond the Remington Building , his gaze fixed on Meg's taillights so intently that he did not see the car come at him from the right. He felt the impact and the car spin, then all went black.

 

Meg glanced in the rearview at sound of the collision, her eyes flicking back to the road ahead of her. Sadly, automobile accidents were no rarity in LA, not even in the better parts of town. She sent up a small prayer to whoever might be listening that no one had been hurt, and continued on her way, intent on her destination.

 

She was looking forward to getting home and to her nightly call to John. Maybe he'd have good news for her. Maybe he'd know when he was coming home.

 

But that would also mean she'd failed in her objectives over these last few days and that she might have a lot of explaining to do. While Zeedo could back up her story with John, reintroducing the two would present its own problems. And that still left the threat to be dealt with. Better for her plans, if worse for her heart, that he announce some delay in his return.

 

She was tired. She'd worry about all that later. After she'd talked to John.

 

The drive home was uneventful. She started taking deep breaths as she pulled into her parking garage, hoping to perk herself up a bit for the short walk from the parking garage to her apartment building. She knew she couldn't afford to let her guard drop, at least until she got into her apartment, locked the door and activated the alarm system.

 

Meg Coburn never knew where the anesthetic dart that pierced the skin of her neck was shot from, its soporific effect already coursing through her as she fell.

 

She found herself laying on the parking garage floor next to her car, her body nerveless, eyes staring upward at the visage of a man who, for all his scars, seemed vaguely familiar. As she lay there helpless looking up at him, he did something that made it all come back to her.

 

Steadying himself against her car, he brought down the cane on which he had been leaning across both of her knees.

 

In her apartment, Meg's phone had been ringing all day.

 

Zedkov had called her every fifteen minutes since she had dropped off his surveillance radar at some point mid morning. She had violated every precaution he had set in place this day. She hadn't checked in as she had promised to do, she'd removed the small tracking device he'd warned her to carry with her at all times. That she had left her apartment at all this day had been a violation of their agreement. She was supposed to be laying low and waiting for further instructions.

 

The surveillance at the airport had been a bust, every lead his network of informants had provided him turning up empty. He'd just shut the operation down, in fact, based on the latest information coming down the pike, which claimed that The Dragon was already in LA and had been for several days. A reordering of the investigation was in progress, the focus shifting to finding out as much about the mysterious figure's supposed whereabouts.

 

Zedkov wondered if his quarry wasn't a product of someone's fertile imagination. He'd rounded up the snitch and suspected gun dealer Loco and brought him in for questioning, but so far he was keeping his mouth shut.

 

Zeedo swiveled in his desk chair as his partner Sammy Hunt, came up behind him, fingering a piece of paper.

 

"Coburn's been hanging out at a loft in the Remington Building, hasn't she?" he asked, frowning at the words he was reading.

 

"Yeah. Part of the window dressing. I already sent someone by earlier today and there wasn't anybody at home, according to the concierge, and neither of the two cars she's been using were in the parking garage there."

 

"Well, this could be nothing, but I just got this in about a traffic accident a block from that address."

 

"Coburn?" Zeedo stood up, his voice rising in a mixture of anger and alarm.

 

"No, hit and run. The victim is male. Shaken up, not hurt. Claims to be a Buddhist Monk on errands for the temple. But the officer on scene says he's dressed more like a cat burglar."

 

Zeedo was halfway out the door before Hunt gathered his wits to follow.

 

John Lee had made several calls just prior to boarding being announced for his flight to Los Angeles.

 

The first had been to Meg on the cell phone; the message that came back indicating that the unit was either turned off or out of the service area.

 

The next had been to Ruong Jie, on the cellphone that he had provided to his old comrade at the airport before leaving for Seattle.

 

No answer there either. Curious, in that Ruong -Jie had promised never to turn his unit off.

 

He had then tried calling Meg's apartment, on the off chance that she was there. When that yielded no results, he took a stab at calling his loft, hoping beyond hope that she might have gone there, finally paying heed to his request to stay there.

 

Again no answer.

 

He had continued trying to establish contact with either one of them via the phone on the plane, not blinking at the stiff service charges that the newly introduced gadgets incurred. He'd worry about the credit card balance later. If at all.

 

Now the lights of Los Angeles were crystalizing below the plane as it descended from the clouds, the city glowing in the darkness like a million jewels.

 

Somewhere amid all that color was the light of his life. She was in danger, and he didn't know where she was.

 

If he'd had incense he would have burned it right there on the plane, praying for her safety, her health, her life.

 

But since even smoking was no longer allowed on flights, and he'd not thought to pack any joss sticks, all he could do was worry and will the plane to land quickly.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 20: GHOSTLY MOVEMENT

 

Lau Ruong-Jie sat in the back seat of the police cruiser, door open, elbows propped on his knees. A bandage was visible on his forehead, his shaved head softly reflecting the dome light of the cruiser.

 

"This yours?" a voice interrupted his misery. Ruong-Jie looked up to see his cellphone being held out to him by the man who was preparing to tow what was left of his car away. "It was ringin' a minute ago, only reason I found it. Musta been knocked under the seat by the impact."

 

Ruong thanked the man profusely in his best English, and hit the key that allowed him to see missed calls.

 

There were several. All from Jian. Ruong moaned.

 

He'd come back to consciousness still in the seat of the now wrecked car, slumped over the steering wheel. Blood was running into his left eye from a cut above it.

 

People were already surrounding the site of the wreck, a helpful few moving to check on him to make sure he was still alive, several fishing out cell phones and calling for emergency response.

 

The only thing he could think of as he came awake was that Meg was unprotected, he had failed in his promise to Li Jian-Hui to keep her always within his sight.

 

His first impulse was to abandon his car and race after her. Common sense told him that wasn't a workable plan almost as quickly as the thought formed. Further, he soon found himself restrained by the good samaritans who came to his aid, concerned for any injuries he might have.

 

He knew he was basically all right. Nothing broken. He probably had a concussion, but his field experience told him told him it was not major, his senses already clearing.

 

Sirens had soon sounded in the distance and moved closer. The crowd of aid-givers had given way to paramedics, and police.

 

He had allowed himself to be extricated from the car, had suffered the ministrations of the paramedic team, waving off the advice to go to the hospital.

 

He'd been sitting, waiting for over two hours as the accident investigation had progressed, statements taken not only from Lau, but also from witnesses to the impact and to the abrupt departure of the car that had hit him. The witnesses reported that the car had hardly seemed damaged, and that the license plate light had been out, making it difficult to see the numbers that would have identified the car.

 

Ruong-Jie had grown steadily more miserable, more worried for Meg and upset that he now found himself stranded, without transportation. He'd missed the cell phone earlier, but had not been allowed back into the car to look for it.

 

Ruong now tried dialing Jian's number. It was busy.

 

By now John Lee was arriving in Los Angeles from Seattle. No doubt he was trying to contact Meg.

 

Ruong Jie offered up prayers that she was safely at home, and that Jian was talking to her even now. But some part of him knew that this accident had been anything but that, and Meg was in terrible danger.

 

His every instinct told him to move, to leave this scene, try to find her.

 

But the policeman who stood a few feet away had already discouraged that idea.

 

Stan Zedkov strode toward the accident scene. The investigation was being concluded, the victim's car towed away just as he and Hunt had arrived. His partner had peeled away moments ago to talk to the on-scene officer while Zeedo went to search out the victim.

 

Seeing the hunched figure in the back seat of the police cruiser Stan shifted direction, a few steps bringing him to stand before the man, who looked up and into his eyes.

 

Zedkov and Lau Ruong-Jie stared at each other in surprise, each recognizing the other from their near encounter at the airport days before.

 

For a moment neither spoke, then almost in unison they spoke the name of the one person they both had in common.

 

"Meg Coburn!"

 

The desperate worry that had taken hold of John since leaving Seattle assaulted him afresh as he approached Meg's apartment.

 

He'd rented the first car available at the first agency he'd encountered at the airport. He had driven directly to Meg's apartment building with as much speed as he could manage without drawing the attention of the police.

 

He'd tried Lau Ruong Jie on the cellphone several more times in transit, fruitlessly. He hoped that Ruong was all right and was with Meg somewhere, but his instincts told him that was not the case. He tried not to worry too deeply for Lau, reserving most of his energy for fear for Meg.

 

John had checked her car in the parking garage, finding it in its accustomed space, its hood cold to the touch. It had not been moved in several hours. Logic dictated that she must be in her apartment. But logic sometimes had little to do with reality in a chaotic universe.

 

He could not control his fear.

 

John laid his hand on the door to Meg's apartment. Something was horribly wrong, he sensed it, knew it with every fiber of his being.

 

He worked his key in the lock--the key he'd made copies of when he and Liu Shen had come to her place to pack clothes for Meg's stay at the loft-- and opened the door.

 

To all appearances, the apartment was empty. Though it was now late evening, no lights were on, the dwelling eerie in its silence. He moved through the office area, activating lights, cold dread growing in his belly.

 

The bedroom was empty as well, the bed made, undisturbed.

 

He moved further into the apartment, checking out each room in its shotgun arrangement, until finally he came back around to the outer office. He stood in the middle of it, lost, forlorn, a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach.

 

His cell phone rang, startling him. He pulled it out of his pocket and moved to answer it.

 

Meg's voice was husky, her tone rushed, as though she must hurry to get her thought out.

 

"John, whatever you do, don't---!"

 

He heard a cry of pain--Meg's-- and another voice replaced hers on the connection. Every nerve and muscle in his body responded to the rushed words and cut off cry, pain jolting his body as though he'd been struck by a semi.

 

"Sorry, Meg can't talk any more right now, John. She wants me to give you her love, though," the male voice taunted.

 

"Let me speak to her again!" John spat out the words even as his mind tried to place the man's familiar voice in memory.

 

"You're not in any position to make demands. Neither is she. Do you remember me, John Lee?"

 

The mental image that coalesced in John's consciousness was the last image he had of the owner of that voice. He'd stood on the hood of Terence Wei's car, aiming at the smirking face behind the wheel of his former benefactor's limousine. The same face who'd simpered sadistically after his boot had connected with Meg's knee at Eddie's Car Wash.

 

"I remember you. What do you want?" John hissed out his reply.

 

"You, John Lee. And Wei's money. In MacArthur Park, by the geyser. I think you'll find us. Two hours."

 

"I will be there." John replied. "Let me speak to Meg again." He was desperate to know she was all right, but had kept his voice from revealing that fact too plainly.

 

"You'll see her soon enough. Long enough to say goodbye at least."

 

The connection died, leaving John listening to dead air.

 

The rage that filled him in that moment, rivaled any emotion he'd felt in his life, and radiated out from the core of his being in all directions. His vision was swimming in red, his blood pounded in his ears. His hands shook with the rush of adrenaline coursing through his body.

 

He knew where Meg hid her guns, and went now to retrieve them. He'd have to make a brief stop at the loft as well, to gather his own weapons and ammunition.

 

He crossed the apartment, stalking toward the front door, pausing when he thought he heard a sound from without.

 

Moving soundlessly, he pulled back into the shadows behind the door. Muffled voices reached his ears. He chambered a round in the gun he held in his hand and waited, the weapon drawn and ready.

 

There was fumbling with the door lock, then the door swung open.

 

John aimed the weapon at the head of the intruder, his finger on the trigger. The intruder by instinct, spun, his own gun drawn and aimed at John.

 

An overhead light came on concurrent with the movement.

 

He came face to face, eye to eye, muzzle to muzzle with Detective Stan Zedkov.

 

Neither man moved for a deathless moment. Then Lau Ruong-Jie's voice came to him in Cantonese:

 

&lt;"Jian! We have come to help!"&gt;

 

John's eyes flicked to take in the sight of Ruong, with his head bandaged and his arms outstretched. John brought his gun down, drawing a ragged breath. His body shaking from the combination of adrenaline and tension.

 

"We should stop meeting like this, old friend," Zeedo was saying as he relaxed his own defensive stance. He transferred his weapon to his other hand and stretched his right out to John. "Maybe we should start over. We've never been properly introduced. I'm Stan Zedkov, LAPD. You saved my son's life."

 

John nodded, his lips twitching in a grim approximation of a smile. "John Lee." He reached out and clasped the policeman's hand, wondering that he was doing it at all.

 

Ruong expelled a breath he'd obviously been holding. "Jian, Meg?"

 

&lt;"Kidnapped,"&gt; John spoke in Cantonese, eyeing Zeedo suspiciously. &lt;"He calls himself Dragon now. I knew him by another name. He has her. He wants me. And Wei's money. He called me on her cell phone."&gt;

 

"Hey guys, I'm on your side. Could we have that again in English?"

 

Ruong looked at John questioningly, &lt;"He has been working with Meg. To protect you. I saw evidence with my own eyes. You need to trust him."&gt;

 

John sighed, closing his eyes for a fraction of a minute. He then took a deep breath. He fixed Stan Zedkov with a penetrating stare.

 

"You have let Meg put herself at risk. Her life may now be forfeit. Why should I trust you?"

 

Zedkov's eyes flicked between Ruong and John. "You know Meg, it wasn't as simple as that. I had her covered and protected, as well as you did with your friend here. In my case she started doing things I'd specifically warned her against, using her own initiative. She's a brave girl, but sometimes a foolhardy one. I should have had her under protective custody. For that oversight I apologize. Now let's get down to business and see if we can't get her out of the mess she's gotten herself into."

 

John listened to Zedkov, his mind flashing images of the woman he loved more than his own life as the policeman spoke. He, who knew her better than anyone had underestimated his Meg, just as Zeedo had.He had been wrong to leave her behind in LA, wrong not to tell her from the beginning, the risks he was putting her under by virtue of the fact of reentering her life.

 

The shame of his miscalculation rendered him momentarily deaf and speechless. Zeedo's statement hung in the air, until Ruong reached out and touched John on the arm, bringing him out of his distraction.

 

John nodded.

 

 

CHAPTER 21: FOUR MEANS DEATH

 

Meg moaned and raised herself up from the floor. She'd been momentarily stunned by the savage blow that had knocked her away from the cell phone. Carefully coached to speak only what "Dragon" told her to, she had known the risk of trying to warn John. Her only regret was that she had not gotten a chance to hear his voice before being knocked down.

 

She could taste blood in her mouth, from a cut to the inside of her cheek at the impact point. She spat trying to rid herself of the coppery taste.

 

Meg had never known her captor's name, but his face had been ingrained on her memory that day in Eddie's car wash. She still felt the occasional twinge in the kneecap he'd dislocated.

 

He was much changed from that self satisfied dandy, his face deeply scarred, his body no longer proudly erect, but slightly hunched as though he were in constant pain. The sight of him so altered had brought her a certain grim pleasure. For what he had done and what he now planned, she hoped his misery was exquisite.

 

Meg's legs still ached from the blow that he'd dealt them with his cane, but he'd inflicted less damage this time than his long ago kick had. He wasn't as strong as he thought he was, she was deeply bruised, but nothing was broken.

 

Meg had been playing up the injury however, pretending to be more disabled by his blow than she had been. She had to keep her options open.

 

John was back in LA. She knew that because "Dragon" or Lung-Shin as he'd taken to calling himself, had taunted her with the fact for the last few hours-- keeping her periodically updated in his sardonic and sarcastic vocal manner of every move that John was making.

 

He seemed to know when his enemy left Bellevue for SEATAC airport, knew precisely which flight he'd taken, that it had been nonstop and on-time benefitting from favorable winds. He knew when John landed, even knew that the first place Lee had gone to was her own apartment.

 

Meg had realized quickly and ruefully that her role playing of the last few days had been wasted energy--utterly fruitless. She may have fooled a few of the unaffiliated bottom feeders, but not those she had intended to bait. They had seen through her the whole time.

 

How Loco must have laughed at her, after she pulled away from the arcade. He'd been in on Lung's plans from the beginning, .

 

Lung-Shin wasn't letting her forget any of it. He had made a point of berating her from the moment she'd awakened from the anesthetic dart.

 

As angry as her situation made her, at her captors and at herself, she saved most of her energy in unrelenting anxiety for John. She'd set out to make herself bait to trap a dragon. Her game was now being turned back on her to lure the man she loved more than life itself.

 

She kept her anger close and hot. She'd yet find a way to redress the balance, get some of her own back. She hoped in the process, that she'd be able to save John's life.

 

John Lee had said little since agreeing to a temporary alliance with Zedkov, instead forging ahead with his preparations while the police detective and Ruong-Jie attempted to keep up. Zedkov had been in constant contact with his partner, setting up the police side of things via cell phone, based on the information John had grudgingly given him.

 

Ruong Jie had studied his old comrade carefully as the duo had made their way back to John's loft. Zedkov made his separate way to avoid being seen with John Lee, as it was becoming obvious that surveillance on Meg had been more thoroughgoing and comprehensive than any of them could have guessed.

 

Jian was as focused and alert as Ruong could ever remember seeing him, but eerily silent, as though some part of him was very far away. He moved around his loft now, while Zedkov and Lau watched him, gathering weapons and paperwork, representative of Wei's wealth or camouflage, Ruong did not know which.

 

"You're going to wear a wire." Zedkov was saying as Jian sat down and methodically cleaned a gun he'd removed from his safe, pocketing a supply of ammunition.

 

John's head inclined, agreeing in silence.

 

"I don't suppose I can convince you not to wear a gun." Zedkov continued.

 

Li Jian-Hui looked up at him, his gaze darkly questioning.

 

"No. My adversary would be more suspicious if I came unarmed. You may arrest me for illegal possession of a firearm afterward." John's reply represented the largest number of words he'd spoken since they'd met him at Meg's apartment.

 

"Right. Okay, I've got a technician coming over with the wire. We need to discuss what is going to happen. I don't want to see any surprises out there. The only way this is going to work at all is if we all know our parts and stick to them."

 

John laid his gun down on the table, once again fixing Zedkov with a stare.

 

"I will do what I must. I will not be hobbled by overstrategizing. I welcome your assistance. I do not welcome your interference. I will cooperate as best I can, but I will not be ordered about."

 

Zedkov's eyebrows raised, but he did not argue with Jian, the debt he owed this man for his son's life seeming to buy an extra ration of forbearance.

 

"Then perhaps you will tell me what your plans are. I'll do my best to support them. Up to a point." Zeedo replied levelly.

 

John Lee, resuming his careful attention to the cleaning of his gun, did just that.

 

Meg found herself being shoved roughly into the back seat of the car by Lung's two goons. Prepared for a veritable army surrounding John's enemy, she had never, at any point, seen anyone other than the two thugs who manhandled her now. She wondered at the fact, puzzling that he was not using a show of force and might to further intimidate her.

 

Could it be, for all his seeming omniscience, that he was not so heavily supported as he would like her and John to believe?

 

Meg had, by careful listening and observation, discovered that however powerful Lung might seem, here in his chosen setting and element, something rang false. His comrades treated him with deference and respect, but also seemed to regard him with the quiet assistance expected of caregivers for the infirm. She might have been imagining it, but there seemed to be a tinge of tolerance in their general mien, as though they acted less out of blind loyalty than a careful indulgence for the off-center sensibilities of a comrade.

 

A comrade who, at his core was not altogether stable, whose single-minded goal for revenge was the only thing keeping him focused and motivated. Perhaps the only thing that had kept him alive at all.

 

It was a dangerous combination, instability and blind hatred. But it presented opportunities as well. The chinks in the Lung armor were fascinating, and it was information she wished she had some way to communicate to John.

 

As Lung settled in next to her, keeping a gun pointed at her midsection, Meg spoke. She hoped her voice held the right amount of insolence.

 

"So where the hell are we going now? You've been shuttling me all over town."

 

Lung smiled his most unctuous smile, "For a walk in the Park, my dear."

 

John walked across the expanse of grass, stepping onto the paved walkway at the water's edge. One hundred yards ahead, he saw the furtive movement of a small group of people, poised between the trees and the artificial lake. Three men and one woman, whose golden hair reflected what little ambient light there was so close to midnight. The men stood in a semicircle around the woman, who was sitting on the ground.

 

Meg. His Meg. John projected loving, reassuring thoughts to her across the distance between them, along the bond between their souls.

 

He could sense her nearness and relished it. He knew she was frightened and worried, but her brave heart beat strongly. His own swelled with pride and love for the singular woman Meg Coburn was.

 

The so called "Dragon" had not been able to stifle his impulse for one final phone call to mock John, and had finally introduced himself under the name he wished now to be called, Lung Shin. Wei's former chauffeur and hired muscle fancied himself now the new emperor in town.

 

The call had reaped unexpected benefits. First and foremost, it had informed John that his enemy was not the most stable of individuals, his hectoring taking on an almost juvenile tone before the call had been terminated.

 

Zedkov had extracted from John the identity of Wei's would-be successor. He remembered the cop shaking his head, recognizing their adversary as the same Wei gang member who had been dragged barely breathing from the wreck of Wei's car. He'd informed John of the man's physical state, more valuable information to carry with him as they met face to face.

 

Even as he grew to better know his nemesis, John's fear for Meg grew more intense. It was bad enough to deal with someone like Wei who despite his grief had never succumbed to irrationality. Logic was often more easy to meet and deal with than chaos.

 

He must not be distracted, must deal with the man as he found him. Get Meg away from him as quickly as possible. Only then would he be able to deal with Lung once and for all.

 

Meg sensed John's presence before she ever caught sight of him, the warmth of his love and concern for her bridging the physical distance between them. Ever the practicalist, she wished for extra sensory perception, even if she didn't believe in it, so that she could transmit to John the information she had been able to gather about their enemy. She formed the thoughts in her mind anyway, on the off chance that the two of them had somehow earned a miracle.

 

She could not help herself that her head swiveled in John's direction and her eyes sought him out long before he was ever visible. It was an action so natural and unconscious to her, that she never knew that her subtle movement alerted Lung to John's approach.

 

A smile lit the crippled man's face, even as John Lee coalesced before them out of the darkness.

 

"Welcome, John Lee. So glad you could make it," he tossed out the sardonic greeting.

 

Meg watched as John approached, then stopped, positioning himself at a right angle to her, not more than six feet away. Lung had shifted position slowly, never taking his gun off Meg as he stood to face John squarely some three feet to her right. Their relative positions took on shape of an obtuse triangle, Meg at the apex, John and Lung forming the base.

 

Lung turned towards one of his compatriots, "Pat him down," he ordered.

 

Lung's henchman approached John, who raised his arms partially in the air, giving a small grimace as the insulted muscles in his injured shoulder voiced a protest..

 

As he suffered the search, John shifted his gaze slightly to look at Meg. He quickly took in her aspect, noting, she was sure, the handcuffs in front of her, the bruise on her cheek.

 

The force of his regard took her breath away. If ever love, worry and reassurance had been formed together in one look before, he communicated his heart to her in that moment. She concentrated on allowing her soul to fill her eyes in response.

 

As quickly and warmingly as his regard had met hers, his eyes now shifted away, the loving brown eyes of moments before replaced by orbs that glowed darkly and menacingly in the gloom.

 

The muscular aide patted him down, extracting a gun from the belt of his pants, behind his back.

 

Meg's heart could not help but sink, for all her faith in her beloved, to see him disarmed and seemingly vulnerable.

 

"I am here," John's voice was crisp, sharp as a bayonet, "let her go."

 

Lung laughed, an abrupt and mirthless bark.

 

"That isn't how it works, John. Your lady isn't going anywhere. Where is Wei's money? Don't tell me that you forgot to bring it, or Miss Meg dies right here, right now."

 

It didn't seem possible that John's gaze could become darker, but it did.

 

"I have brought what I could. The banks are long since closed. I will give you what you need to access the accounts in the morning." John spoke levelly. Flashing his palm out, he reached into his jacket breast pocket and withdrew a paper which he shook out to full legal length. He tossed it into the air between them, his eyes never leaving Lung's as the document fluttered down to the ground.

 

Meg recognized it, even in the low light. The power of attorney they had dummied up, but never used. John must have signed it, found her illegal notary stamp and authenticated it. She held her breath as one of Lung's goons scooped it up and delivered it to his boss.

 

Lung peered at it in the low light, seemingly satisfied with its legitimacy. He stuffed it into the pocket of his suit coat.

 

"The two of you just became extraneous, John Lee, you and your lady love. Which one of you wants to die first?" Lung taunted. "I thought I'd shoot Meg first, make you watch her die. But I'm thinking now that it might be more interesting the other way around. Perhaps it is Meg who should scream to die after watching you suffer. I do so love to watch a heart being broken."

 

Meg had been preparing herself, as Lung's attention and that of his lackeys had focussed in on John. She'd worked at moving her legs beneath her, bunching her muscles preparatory to making some movement, as diversion or escape, she was not sure which.

 

As Lung lifted and pointed his gun, she prepared herself for one superhuman movement.

 

The sequence of events of what happened next would take days to work out by ballistic experts and police crime scene investigators.

 

All Meg saw was Lung cocking the weapon and John standing defenseless a mere six feet from her.

 

Shots rang out, Lung's two thugs dropped where they stood. For a critical few seconds, Lung hesitated, confused by the sudden change in fortunes.

 

Meg used that moment to make her move. With all the strength and force her body possessed, she threw herself the distance between herself and John, her shoulder connecting with his chest, just as the sound of a weapon discharging exploded behind them.

 

She didn't hear the volley of shots that pierced the night, finishing the business that John had begun six months ago. Lung's lifeless body fell to the ground even as John's arms closed around her and the two of them tumbled over and over, rolling away from the scene of the meeting.

 

John had her in his arms, was looking down on her in astonishment and wonder. Wonder that slowly turned into horror as his hand came away from her back covered in blood.

 

She looked up at him, remembering that she owed him an answer to something, and that more than anything in this moment, she wanted to give that answer to him. But her eyes were swimming with black dots and it was hard to draw a breath. She became vaguely aware of the coppery taste of blood in her mouth again.

 

She looked up at John desperately, trying to communicate her love to him. But the world grew black, his beloved, worried face retreating away from her into darkness.

 

As though from a million miles away, she heard John's voice, an anguished cry that twisted at her heart.

 

"MEG!!!!"

 

 

 

CHAPTER 22: WASTING AWAY

 

Lau Ruong-Jie and Stan Zedkov were moving across the park at a dead run before the echo of the final gunshot had died.

 

They were halfway to their objective when they heard John's agonized cry.

 

Zeedo was shouting orders into his hand mike even as he closed the distance to the fallen couple.

 

Ruong-Jie outpaced him, worry and concern propelling him forward at a quicker pace than he thought himself capable of.

 

John had Meg in his arms, sitting her up straight, frantically searching for the source of the blood that stained his hand. As Ruong-Jie skidded to a halt in front of him, Jian had already discovered and was applying pressure to entry and an exit wounds, at the same time attempting to rouse Meg with his voice.

 

She rallied for a moment, her brown eyes opening. From years of field experience, Ruong saw, identified and set about aiding John in immediate care of the woman who was fighting desperately to hold on to consciousness.

 

"Man down! Need R&amp;A unit onsite MacArtthur Park. NOW!! Scoop and run! STAT!!! Approximately thirteen minutes out from USC Trauma Center." Zeedo slid in beside them, shouting into his communication device for the paramedics. He reached forward, freeing Meg's wrists from the handcuffs that had bound her with a master key.

 

John spared a brief look at Zedkov, then switched his panicked gaze to Ruong, who verbally confirmed what they both knew.

 

&lt;"Chest wound, through and through. Compromised lung function. Pulse elevated. Consciousness level deteriorating."&gt;

 

Zeedo was kneeling next to them. "Come on Meg, hold on! Help's coming!"

 

Meg, better able to breathe in the semi-sitting position John had her in, followed the sound of Zeedo's voice with her eyes.

 

"Uh...uh oh. Busted." she murmured semi-coherently.

 

"Meg, lie still. Be quiet," John urged, his voice strained and husky, yet touchingly tender for all of that.

 

Meg's head moved back in his direction, her brown eyes trying to focus on the face of her beloved. "Jian....want to tell you..."

 

John shushed her, showering kisses on her face &lt; "Mo ah...Mo men tai, mo men tai..."&gt;he murmured in Cantonese, don't....it will be all right, it will be all right...

 

Sirens were already sounding in the distance. None of the three men dared to move as the sounds drew closer, their attention fixed on the wounded woman at their center.

 

John had never been much of a pacer, but the events of the last twenty-four hours had changed that. He paced now, in the corridor outside the emergency examination room. He had wanted to stay with Meg as the doctors and nurses tended to her, desperate not to be forced to leave her side. But his objections had been quickly overcome, and he'd been banished out the door. He now stood watching as a privacy curtain swirled around the gurney where they worked on her.

 

Ruong-Jie was with him, Zedkov having stayed at the scene to oversee the clean up and begin the investigation. John had forced his way aboard the aid car, Ruong-Jie had followed in a police cruiser.

 

John had watched as the paramedics, eschewing stabilizing Meg at the scene, had begun treatment even as the aid car screamed toward the trauma center.

 

She'd looked so pale, so fragile. He'd watched her struggle for breath, the blood frozen in his veins, his heart beating erratically, his breathing as compromised as her own.

 

The ministrations of the paramedics had been sure, professional. John, desperate to touch Meg, reassure her of his presence, had instead hung back and let the men do their work. He listened in horrified fascination as they relayed vital, if grim information to the hospital communication center, and received instruction and support in return.

 

The trip to the trauma center had seemed to take forever, every second ticking by an eternity as the unfamiliar English medical terms swam around him, crackling from the radio, spoken by the medics.....open chest wound, pneumo/ hemothorax., hypotension, tachycardia,wide bore through-the-needle catheter...ringers lactate, occlusive dressing....

 

John closed his eyes against the memories, pausing in his pacing, bracing himself against the corridor wall.

 

His right shoulder ached, He rubbed it absentmindedly, his mind trying to force away the images of the last half an hour.

 

His hands were shaking. He was cold with stress and fear.

 

Ruong-Jie moved to face him, placing a hand on his unaffected shoulder with consummate care. John opened his eyes to see his old comrade studying him carefully and compassionately, looking him up and down with a practiced eye. &lt;"Were you injured, Jian?"&gt;

 

John looked at his compatriot, bemused, wondering at the question. Meg was the one who was hurt, who was fighting for her life at this very moment.

 

&lt;"I--no..."&gt; John began to protest, raising his arms instinctively away from his sides as Ruong-Jie patted him down, checking for injuries.

 

&lt;"You're as pale as I've ever seen you, and you look ready to collapse, old friend. Let me look you over."&gt;

 

John flinched as Ruong's probing fingers touched his right side, coming away damp with blood. The bullet which had hit Meg had exited her body and grazed his own. It was a superficial injury, he hardly felt it. The least of his current concerns.

 

&lt;"You need to have that looked at..."&gt; Ruong murmured, reaching for a handkerchief from his own back pocket and pressing it against John's side.

 

&lt;"It is nothing,"&gt; John hissed, pulling away from Ruong's ministrations, his gaze drifting through the glass that separated him from the trauma bay.

 

He resumed pacing, while Ruong looked at him with concern.

 

John's focus was on Meg, willing her, across the short distance between them --which now felt like a thousand miles--all his love, all his strength. He closed his eyes, trying to project a healing energy to her.

 

A nurse burst out of the room beyond, just as John had paced a length down the corridor and turned to walk back.

 

"Are you her husband?" the woman asked.

 

Without hesitation, John replied. While not the legal truth, it was the truth of his heart. "Yes!"

 

"Your wife needs emergency surgery. Do we have your permission?"

 

Overcome, John nodded. The nurse handed him a clipboard, instructing him to write down necessary information and indicating where he needed to sign the permission form. He was so unmanned by the news that he nearly began to write the information in Chinese characters. He forced himself to concentrate and write in English.

 

"How is she? Please, I need to know,” he asked, handing the clipboard back to the nurse. She w

 

aved him off, her face kindly, but harried, "The doctor will be out in just a moment, she will explain everything," she vanished back into the room beyond.

 

John watched as the curtain was opened and the gurney bearing his Meg was pushed rapidly from view.

 

He realized that he was hyperventilating, and sought instinctively to calm himself by taking deep breaths. Ruong moved once again to his side, concerned no doubt, by his old comrade's labored breathing.

 

John had just managed to get some small measure of composure back when the doctor emerged from the room.

 

"Mr...Lee?" the scrubs-clad woman glanced at the clipboard she held in her hands, then looked up at him. She had a compassionate face, he noted, his mind searching for positive signs in the face of tragedy.

 

"Yes," he said quietly, impatient with the formalities, yet strangely loathe to hear what was coming.

 

"We've stabilized your wife for the moment, but there is some internal bleeding that is going to require surgery to correct. She's fortunate in that the wound was through and through, less energy lost by a bullet within a body means in general less damage to internal structures. The bullet nicked her lung, which caused it to collapse. Right now she's holding her own, but we have to get in there to control the bleeding and repair the pleural lining. The surgery will take anywhere between two to several hours--if you have family to notify this would be a good time to do it. You don't need to stay in the hospital, just leave your number in case we need to reach you."

 

"She will live?" John asked, breathlessly, his lungs and heart seeming to constrict and solidify into leaden weights.

 

"She's a fighter, I can tell. But I won't make any promises. We've got a top thoracic surgeon preparing to operate as we speak. Percentages don't mean much at this stage."

 

John sagged against the wall at his back. He thanked the doctor, nodded and watched her turn and walk away.

 

Ruong-Jie was there, offering his support, never more than an arm's length away. The monk's look of empathy was profound and heartfelt. "&lt;She will be all right. I feel this.&gt;"

 

John nodded, hating the feeling of helplessness that overwhelmed him now, finding further speech quite beyond his abilities.

 

"&lt;Come. I will pray with you.&gt;" Ruong-jie said quietly.

 

"&lt;I'll be on the next plane, brother. Lee Ma will want to come as well.&gt;"

 

John stood outside of the hospital, the cellphone warm in his hand, the battery was fading, he hoped it would hold up for the length of the call.

 

"&lt;No, sister. Not yet. Wait a few days. I will let you know how Meg is doing...&gt;"

 

"&lt;But Jian, who will take care of you? I know you are hurting....&gt;"

 

"&lt;I will be fine. I will be with Meg.&gt;" John soothed with a calm he did not feel, "&lt;Do not tell Ma until morning. Let her have her rest.&gt;"

 

"&lt;I will, Jian. I am so sorry. We love you.&gt;"

 

John echoed the sentiment then bid his sister farewell, pocketing the now dead cell phone. He stepped away from the hospital's entrance.

 

Alone, in the dark, he did something he had not done since he was a very young man.

 

He wept.

 

 

 

 

CHAPTER 23: MAINTAINING STILLNESS

 

John sat beside the ICU bed, his two hands cocooning Meg's left between them.

 

She was unconscious.

 

The surgery, they said, had gone well. The bleeding had been stopped, the lung repaired. They were "cautiously optimistic" that she would recover in the wake of the operation, though she had suffered a ten percent loss in lung capacity due to her injury. The body, he was informed, had much built in redundancy, and if all went well, this disability would be hardly noticeable.

 

John Lee dared not think about the future. Afraid to hope too much, he kept his attention focussed only on the moment. The rise and fall of her chest in steady breathing rhythm; the reassuring beep of her heart rate on the bedside monitor, the hiss of the supplemental oxygen that she received; the newly understood pulse-ox, blood pressure and temperature readings; the steady drip of fluids and medication into her IV. These things became his world.

 

Visiting was supposed to be strictly limited in the intensive care wards. By rules and standards he was only allowed to be with her for two hours at a time, twice a day. He was firm in his intention not to leave her side, however, ignoring the gentle admonitions of the nursing staff when the time came for him to go. They had finally given up, faced with his quiet intractibility and noticing that Meg's vitals seemed their highest when he was at her side, lower when he stepped away. He was doing no harm and might even be helping with his constant presence and tender touch.

 

In spite of his best intentions, his careful precautions and preparations, he always brought disruption and destruction into Meg's life. Where he had wanted to bring only love and comfort, he had inflicted greater harm.

 

Meg stirred slightly in her insensibility; John caught and held his breath as he watched her move then settle into stillness once more.

 

She was still so pale, in spite of the intravenous lines that snaked into her arm. She looked so young, so vulnerable, so ill, her beauty heartbreakingly fragile.

 

He brought her hand up to his cheek, kissing her palm then cradling it gently against his face.

 

Liu Shen knew that her brother would not be pleased to see them. But he could not have known---she herself hadn't--that the phone call he had made some hours before had not been as private as they had thought. Lee Ma had picked up her extension just as Liu Shen had, remaining silent for the duration, undetected. John's sister had not known until their dynamo of a mother had stormed into her room--bag in hand, haranguing her daughter to be up and to pack--that she had eavesdropped.

 

Liu Shen was glad that her mother had overheard. Whereas her brother might admit his displeasure to his sister, he would not dare stand up to their formidable mother.

 

They'd gotten on the next realistic flight from SEATAC, delivered to the airport by hastily awakened relatives. Within three hours of John's call they were airborne and on their way back to Los Angeles.

 

Liu Shen had been proud of her skill in securing transportation from LAX to the hospital, grateful that she had thought to ask John the name of the facility.

 

It was early afternoon as they gained the intensive care floor where John sat with Meg, visible through the glass of the open ICU bay arrangement.

 

They paused now in the doorway to the room eyes riveted to the scene before them. Meg was alabaster against the hospital linens. John sat to her left, hunched over in his chair as though in physical pain, his gaze fixed on his beloved. He looked exhausted, pale with tension and worry.

 

They watched him in silence for a moment longer, then Liu Shen spoke, her voice carefully modulated so as not to startle.

 

"Jian Gor," she said softly, Brother Jian.

 

He turned to look at them, stunned surprise on his tired face. Liu Shen murmured to him, promising to explain later. For now, it was enough that they were there.

 

Jian rose, regretfully laying Meg's hand down by her side. He moved toward mother and sister, his face and posture speaking more of his pain and exhaustion than any words could. Seeing him so, his sister's heart ached in quiet empathy.

 

Liu Shen shared a quick look with her mother, before stepping into her brother's arms. Lee Ma put her arms around both of them, murmuring soft Cantonese words of comfort.

 

Liu Shen moved silently into the doorway of Meg's room,

 

She had been trying to doze in the waiting room, but found herself restless. She'd left Lee Ma sleeping peacefully, covered by a light blanket provided by a thoughtful nurse. They'd sat just outside the ICU watching John and Meg through the glass for many hours, until exhaustion overtook them completely.

 

Liu Shen stood at the foot of Meg's bed, knowing she violated the rules, intent on being as unobtrusive as possible. She divided her attention between her brother, who sat in his accustomed position at the bedside, dozing in spite of himself, and Meg, who had yet to stir.

 

She and Lee Ma had tried to convince John to lie down for a bit, reminding him that he'd not slept in over twenty-four hours and that turning himself into a ghost would not aid Meg in any material way. But he would not be moved. That he slept at all now was a triumph of enervation over will, she knew. Even in sleep he held Meg's hand protectively, reassuringly.

 

They had been able to convince him to change his clothing, which had been stained with Meg's blood and, as they later discovered, some of his own. Liu Shen had commandeered his keys and retrieved a change of clothing from the loft, Lau Ruong-Jie driving her in John’s rental car which Detective Zedkov had thoughtfully arranged to be brought to the hospital.

 

Jian had even resisted this, until Lee Ma had impressed upon him the reality that seeing him bloody would do to Meg's sensibilities when she awakened. Lee Ma had insisted on accompanying him while he changed, leaving Liu Shen outside the ICU floor men's room to guard the door against entry. Discovering the furrowed wound to his side, Lee Ma had emitted a shriek and flown out of the men's room, fetching a nurse, who then re-entered with her to minister to his wound.

 

Liu Shen smiled, remembering as she stood watching her brother and his beloved, how quickly Lee Ma had developed an affection for Meg. Both of them had held the young woman in admiration for her help in returning John to them alive. Meeting her face to face had deepened the bond, watching as she took expert care of John while he was ill from the infection of his shoulder wound.

 

Liu Shen knew her mother to be a traditional sort, conservative and reserved, and she had worried at first how her mother would take the fact that John and Meg had begun sleeping together almost immediately on the Lees' arrival in the US. Not that the pair had not been circumspect in their attraction and intimacy, they had, but the fact had quickly become obvious.

 

Amazingly, Lee Ma had not batted an eyelash. No matter what her sensibilities might tell her, she had relished seeing her son so happy and so much in love, and had begun referring to Meg as her daughter in law almost immediately. In private conversations with her daughter, she had expressed, time and again that she was happy with Meg and John's relationship and looked forward to many grandchildren.

 

As if the force of her will could make it so.

 

Liu Shen's heart ached for both of them. Jian for the depth of his torment, Meg for her continued unconsciousness.

 

She had talked to the doctors, been assured that physically, Meg would eventually be all right. They pointed to the fact that her vitals had shown steady improvement, claimed that her level of consciousness was rising, They seemed convinced that she would soon awaken.

 

But there was no outward indication of that, that Liu Shen could see, and she worried deeply for her brother, his nerves long since strained to the breaking point

 

Buddha was merciful. She must remember that. She must hold onto her faith.

 

John sat at Meg's bedside on this third day after the shooting, his eyes surveying her carefully, noting any small changes in her condition. She was still unconscious, still hooked up to the machines that had preserved her life in the wake of the shooting and the surgery that had followed. To him she still seemed porcelain pale against the hospital linens. There seemed to be little change in her aspect this new day.

 

His heart grieved profoundly. Liu Shen had grilled the doctors when his will had grown weak from worry and fear. They claimed his beloved Meg was holding her own, and expressed every confidence in her recovery. But watching her laying so still in the bed, he could not make himself believe it.

 

Lee Ma had always told him that talking to those who are ill and unconscious was one of the best things to do, that it gave the sick person's spirit something to hold on to, to keep it tied to the earth.

 

Believing that, John spoke again now as he had for the three days since Meg had been shot.

 

"Ruong-Jie sends his love. He is back at the temple, leading prayers for your recovery. He claims that the smoke from the incense can be seen from your room. You have many people praying for you." John's voice was quiet, gentle. "Detective Zedkov has come by every day. He has been trying to bring you flowers, but they are not allowed on this floor, so he has given them to Liu Shen and Lee Ma instead. They hope you will not mind."

 

John paused, watching Meg intently, hope flickering in his heart, but never catching full flame.

 

He wished, not for the first time in these last three days, that he'd been the one to be shot, that Meg could have been spared this insult, this horrible trauma. Watching her lying hurt and helpless was like a form of death for him, a slow motion shutting down of all his body systems.

 

He swore, that if she survived this, he would never let anything harm her again. Even if it meant that he had to leave her to insure her safety.

 

"Lee Ma and Liu Shen are at the temple now, praying with Ruong. They will be back soon. They told me to tell you that they love you and want you to hurry back to us."

 

John paused again, his fingers stroking the lax hand he held between his both of own, "Lung is dead. Zedkov says that there is no one left now of Wei's gang, his unit has swept Chinatown, the police in San Francisco have done the same there. You will be safe Meg, no one will ever hurt you again. I promise you that."

 

He gazed at her face, so peaceful in repose, the bruise from the blow Lung had dealt her already fading away. His precious, beautiful Meg.

 

John remembered, in that moment of quiet contemplation of her fragile beauty, back to when he'd been ill. He'd been drawn from the demons of fever and infection by a soft touch, a gentle entreaty that had somehow bridged the chasm between the waking and unconscious worlds. He remembered the words vividly, spoken in Meg's lovely, loving voice, he could hear them still.

 

He wondered if there were some magic left in them.

 

John leaned in close to Meg, reaching out to touch her, at first tentatively, then laying the warmth of his palm against the coolness of her cheek, his fingers stroking the lines of her face.

 

"Meg," John began, putting his soul into his voice, "I need you to come back to me. Meg, please, wake up."

 

Meg came back to awareness slowly, trying to orient herself. Her last memory was of incredible pain, the inability to breathe, the sensation of drowning although she was not in water.

 

She remembered John's face suspended above hers, beautiful, beloved, had wanted to soothe away the deep lines of worry she'd seen there. But the image of him had faded, replaced first by darkness, then a frenzy of activity that had seemed to have her at its center. She'd been disconnected from herself at that point, floating high above her body, yet still feeling every needle that pierced her flesh, every probing touch, the incredible pressure that at first grew in her chest, then seemed to ease away.

 

John had been there, just out of reach. His presence glowing warmly beyond the hubbub, the discomfort, the disconnectedness. A beacon to focus on, a force that kept her tied to her body.

 

He was nearby now, she knew it. She had sensed his steady presence at her side for however long she'd been gone beyond the reach of all other sensation. She'd yearned many times to open her eyes, to seek the comfort of his arms, but somehow she had lacked the energy to push through the barrier that separated them.

 

He had spoken, she knew, but she'd not been able to hear, her brain absorbing the sounds but stubbornly refusing to connect to them, to allow them to make sense.

 

John was speaking to her now, his beautiful voice offering itself like a light in the darkness. She strained to listen as his words floated to her, enveloping her like a warm blanket, their meaning ringing loud, true and clear.

 

"You will be safe Meg, no one will ever hurt you again. I promise you that."

 

She could feel the gentle pressure of his hand against her cheek, his fingers stroking her face. She turned her head into the touch, relishing this newly rediscovered sensibility.

 

"Meg," John said, his heart and soul in his voice as he spoke half familiar words: "I need you to come back to me. Meg, please, wake up."

 

She opened her eyes, hungry for the sight of him.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 24: PASSAGE TO HARMONY

 

John's breath caught in his throat as Meg's head turned slightly, pressing weakly into the warmth of his hand.

 

His heart ceased beating as he watched her stir, the brown eyes opening, muzzy at first, then gaining focus.

 

She had an oxygen mask over her face, she reached up now, her eyes connecting with his, even as he voiced a protest, she pulled it away.

 

"Jian."

 

The word was little more than an exhaled breath, but to his ears it was music from the heavens.

 

Unsatisfied with her first attempt to talk, Meg tried to clear her throat and try again. Her mouth was dry, her vocal chords felt sore and abused.

 

John. He was there, bending close over her, his eyes hollow in a pale face. He looked exhausted beyond measure, a ghost reanimated.

 

She frowned, "Jian.....wh-what happened to you...?" she asked, her brows furrowing in concern. She made her arm, leaden as it felt, move up, and laid a hand against his haggard face, treasuring the touch of his warm skin beneath her fingers.

 

He did not answer, his eyes saying all that his lips might have, the worry, grief and wear seeming to drain away somewhat as she watched. His loving brown eyes were shining at her, his relief communicating itself to her without the need for voice.

 

Still, he looked so worn that she could think of nothing else to do but draw his head down, bringing his cheek to hers. Softly, she murmured the soft words that had been one of the last things she could remember him saying to her.

 

"Mo men tai.....mo men tai...."

 

The improvement in Meg's carefully monitored vitals soon brought a complement of medical personnel to her room.

 

John straightened at their entry, attempting to step back to accommodate their obvious desire to surround Meg's bed to check her condition. He was not successful, with surprising strength, Meg gripped his hand and wouldn't let go, keeping him close.

 

"How do you feel, Mrs. Lee?" a doctor bent over the bed, flashing a penlight into Meg's eyes. She frustrated his efforts by shooting John a quick questioning look which he responded to with a quiet smile.

 

"Do you remember what happened to you?" the doctor persisted as Meg turned her eyes toward him once more.

 

"I was... shot. I was... with my husband in the park and someone... shot at us." Meg responded, her voice weak and whispery, after a moment of hesitation which had more to do with putting a bit of high gloss on the truth, than with any disability.

 

The doctor continued his questions, checking her state of alertness and orientation. Seemingly satisfied, he moved on to listening to heart and lung function, moving through the standard protocols while John watched anxiously. He nodded his pleasure at the results, saying little.

 

Meg looked from doctor to John and back again, eyes troubled, questioning.

 

"How long....?" she began.

 

"You've been unconscious for three days, Mrs. Lee. You're going to be fine now. Try not to worry. And please, keep the this on, at least for now" the doctor replied, calmly replacing the oxygen mask over her face as Meg grimaced. She had much to say and the mask was only in her way.

 

As the medical staff removed from her room she shifted her gaze to John once more. He sat back down in the chair next to her bed, his grip on her hand never lessening.

 

In spite of herself, she was soon asleep, a deep healing rest this time, warmed by pleasant dreams and John's steady presence.

 

Meg stirred, her eyes opening into half light.

 

Her surroundings had changed, gone were the machines that had ringed her bed before, the hushed silence of the intensive care wards. Outside the room she could hear the bustle of activity even though the blinds in her room were closed, the overhead lights dimmed, even as daylight peeked through the slats of the window blinds.

 

She'd been moved to a private room while she slept. John was still at her side, sleeping himself in the fold out chair designed for the purpose in the room. He still held her hand, albeit laxly. She ached to deepen the touch, lacked the energy but also did not want to disturb his rest.

 

She watched him for a few minutes, taking comfort and pleasure from his nearness, relieved that he looked more rested and less haggard now than before. She'd have to talk to him about that. When he woke up.

 

"Meg?" a soft voice caught her attention. It was Liu Shen, seated on the opposite side of the bed from John

 

John's sister rose and moved closer, covering Meg's right hand lightly as though almost afraid to touch it.

 

"You are going to be fine, Meg." Liu Shen whispered soothingly.

 

"John, is he all right?" Meg asked casting a worried glance in his direction. .

 

Liu Shen was smiling at her indulgently, chuckling softly, "Now that you are better, he is fine. I promise you. You did a very brave thing, Li taai-taai. John told us you took a bullet meant for him. We thank you once again for your great courage in preserving his life, but would rather you had not risked your own. Jian promises that he will talk to you about that."

 

Meg considered for a moment, not relishing the thought of John angry with her for any reason.

 

"He was unarmed, Lung was going to shoot him. I couldn't just let it happen," Meg explained.

 

"He was working with Detective Zedkov, he has assured me he was in no real danger." Liu Shen offered, "but then, that could just be an elder brother and son trying to spare his sister and mother worry."

 

Meg contemplated. She regretted nothing about her actions. For perhaps the second time in her life, she'd allowed her heart to rule her head, and there had been consequences. But John was alive and beside her, and that was all that mattered.

 

"John and Zedkov working together...." Meg mused, half to herself, shaking her head.

 

"Detective Zedkov will be here after a while. He has come every day to check up on you. He will be so pleased to see you so much better, and able to accept his flowers yourself."

 

Meg gave a soft moan that had Liu Shen leaning close in compassionate concern, until she waved John's sister off, indicating that she was all right.

 

"That means I'm going to get my ass chewed twice..." Meg complained.

 

Liu Shen made a small sound of sympathy and patted Meg's hand, "Mo men tai...." She bent close, her lips brushing Meg's forehead. Then she reached across the bed and touched her brother's hand, which covered Meg's left.

 

"Wake up, Jian," She urged, even as Meg tried to stop her. John looked so tired, Meg hated to see him disturbed, but Liu Shen who had never done anything not in her sibling's best interest, shook her head and continued her efforts to rouse him. "Meg needs you, Jian."

 

John was awake in an instant, and on his feet, all attention and focussed on Meg. His eyes were so filled with immediate concern and worry, that Meg's heart clenched, and she ached to comfort him.

 

Liu Shen was standing back now, even as John drew closer and took Meg into his arms.

 

Meg returned the embrace, not at all surprised that she had missed his arms around her.

 

"No yelling at sick people!" Liu Shen announced in John's direction, Meg watching as he cast a puzzled glance at his sister.

 

Liu Shen merely smiled and pointed a finger at her brother, even while she favored Meg with a wink.

 

Encouraged to get out of Meg's hospital room on occasion as her condition improved, John was just returning from a walk across the hospital grounds with his sister. Liu Shen had taken their mother in hand and repaired to the hospital cafeteria, leaving John to the privacy of his reunion with Meg. He had hardly been away from her bedside in the two weeks since she'd been hospitalized, and it still made him anxious to be separated from her.

 

He was, therefore, aghast to enter the room to find Meg up on her feet making her slow way to the doorway, IV stand in hand.

 

"MEG!" He exclaimed, horrified. He'd left her safely in bed.

 

Meg swung her eyes up to meet his, a smile dancing across her face.

 

"Hi yourself!" Meg responded, unperturbed, as she glided closer to him.

 

He shook off the paralysis that shock had brought to him, and raced to her side, putting a protective and supportive arm around her.

 

"Where are you going!" he demanded, halting her progress.

 

Meg looked at him innocently.

 

"For a walk, what does it look like?" she responded, her voice not unaffectionate.

 

"You should be in bed. I won't allow it." John proclaimed.

 

Meg looked at him exasperated. "For Christ's sake, John, its doctors orders. The nurse was just in here telling me that I needed to get out of bed and move around. So, that is what I'm doing."

 

"It is too soon. Really, I must insist," John's protective nature was asserting itself, he attempted to urge her back to the bed.

 

Meg stopped stock still. "Oh, this is priceless. Mr. Outta Bed Before He Had Any Right to Be is telling me he knows better than the hospital staff? What happened to ‘Inactivity increases weakness, it does not cure it.', hmmm?"

 

John was speechless for a moment, chagrined that his own words and actions were coming back to haunt him.

 

"I know you mean well, John. Its very sweet of you to be so worried. But I need to do this."

 

"You're still so pale," John began, touching her cheek lovingly.

 

"That's because I've been in bed so long all the blood is pooling in my butt. Now don't just stand there, walk with me. Maybe we can scare up a nurse or a doctor to confirm what I'm telling you."

 

John tightened his embrace and matched his step with hers.

 

That her spirit was back was reassuring, in itself her stubborn insistence on taking her walk was the best affirmation of her physical and emotional condition that he had. Still, he was worried that the medical staff was rushing her recuperation, and he made sure that her first walk was not taxing. He urged her to go no farther than the waiting area not far from her room, and even then, made sure she sat down before attempting the return trip.

 

She sat, somewhat stiffly, on one of the waiting room chairs, while he knelt in front of her, observing her carefully.

 

"We haven't talked about something," Meg said after a moment spent in silence, returning his gaze.

 

John was puzzled. He had expressed his displeasure in her clandestine actions against Lung in a carefully worded exchange monitored by his sister--at Meg's request-- soon after she'd been released from the intensive care ward. Meg had been rather irritatingly unrepentant, but his heart could not harden against her. She was ever his valiant Meg and he would not truly change her.

 

He could think of nothing else left unfinished between them, he looked up at her questioningly, covering both of her hands with his own.

 

"You asked me a question a while back. I never gave you an answer. I'd like you to ask me that question again now." Meg elaborated.

 

John looked at her levelly. He knew the question she referred to. He'd had some doubts about it, after everything that had happened, worried about her continued safety. Wei and his gang might be dead, but the legacy of his work for the crime lord might have more surprises in store farther down the road. He had thought to leave, to protect her, but had never been able to work up the courage to do so. Living without Meg would be living without air to breathe or blood to pump through his veins. He couldn't last long without her, he knew it.

 

Meg was looking at him expectantly, a shadow crossing her face, taking his hesitation for something other than it was. He hastened to reassure her.

 

John took the hands that lay under his own, brought them to his lips and kissed them.

 

"Marry me. Please," he said, putting all his heart into the question.

 

Meg closed her eyes for a moment, John watched her face carefully, concerned at her silence.

 

But, then she opened them, her brown eyes communicating what her lips began to say.

 

"Yes! I will. I'm sorry I made you wait so long to hear the words. I've wanted to tell you that ever since you first asked. I just thought I wanted better than me for you. I realized almost as soon as you left for Seattle, that I wouldn't be able to live without you, though. So I guess you're stuck with me." She cast her eyes downward, seeming suddenly and uncharacteristically shy.

 

John smiled at her broadly, his heart full to overflowing with the quietly spoken acceptance, so typically Meg in its execution. "There would never be any other for me," he said gently, bringing her chin up so that her eyes met his, "if you would not have me, I would have taken Ruong-jie up on his offer. I will love only you, forever, Meg. Only you."

 

Meg lost her composure then, leaning forward to cup her hands to John's face, tears making their way down her cheeks. She kissed him soulfully, a kiss he returned deeply.

 

They sat, glorying in each other, in their shared bond and the promise of their future together. Then, slowly and lovingly, they began the return trip to Meg's room.

 

 

 

CHAPTER 25: STARTLED BY JOY

 

Meg had a few more weeks of recuperation before they could make good on their intention. Once released from the hospital, she still required almost daily breathing therapy and follow up care for her still healing wounds.

 

Liu Shen and Lee Ma had cheerfully moved back into John's loft, putting off their move into their own home in Bellevue until Meg was recovered sufficiently.

 

They were, whatever their original intentions might have been, little more than auxiliary caregivers however, as Meg learned what it was like to have the tables turned, with John caring for her as she began an uneventful recovery.

 

Meg found herself cosseted and coddled as she had never experienced before in her life. She was unsure at first how to react to the loving attention that John showered on her, finding it far easier to be the one giving the care than the one receiving it. Eventually she had learned to relax and accept the regard for what it was, a further expression of John Lee's love for her.

 

John had made good on a promise he had made to her what seemed an eternity ago but which in reality had not been that long in the past. He surprised her one evening with a near approximation to the seven course meal she'd bargained him back in bed with the morning after they had first made love. She'd been assured by Liu Shen and Lee Ma that they'd offered nothing more than advice, that John himself had prepared the meal for her.

 

"I have to confess something, Jian," Meg had said, tasting the dishes one by one, and finding them heavenly, "I can't cook. I've tried. I'm better at take-out."

 

John had favored her with one of his trademark captivating grins, "Mo men tai! I love to cook!"

 

One less obstacle to ultimate wedded bliss overcome.

 

It was over two months later that Meg was finally well enough for the wedding to take place.

 

Liu Shen and Lee Ma had filled the hours they were not needed to respite John in caregiving by combining their talents on a beautiful dress of traditional Chinese design. It was a work of art, based on Lee Ma's own wedding garment. Beautifully sewn and embroidered, Meg had marveled at the intricacy of the design, the delicacy of the needlework and the amazingly accurate and comfortable fit. She half suspected that Lee Ma or Liu Shen had amused themselves while she had taken the numerous naps her recovery had required and John had insisted upon, by taking her measurements clandestinely.

 

The ceremony itself was a fusion of Chinese traditional and western ritual, and took place in the temple, officiated over by Lau Ruong-Jie. The monk had spent hours with Meg as she recovered--at her request--teaching her about Buddhism, and coaching her in Cantonese to be able to say her vows in John's mother tongue.

 

Stan Zedkov was in attendance, demanding his right to give the bride away. His wedding gift to Meg and John, the promised 'disappearing' of her record from the state of California data banks.

 

She and John chose to honeymoon in the Pacific Northwest, Meg meeting John's extended maternal relatives and helping Lee Ma and Liu Shen to move into their permanent home.

 

Meg was entranced by the beauty of the area, fascinated by the change of seasons, a phenomenon not so easily observed in the desert oasis that was Los Angeles. She had been standing with John, his arms around her on the balcony of the condominium they'd just moved his sister and mother into, when a thought had struck.

 

John had expressed a willingness to stay in Los Angeles, if that was where Meg wanted to live. Zedkov, she knew, for all his kindnesses and friendship, was still anxious for them to vacate his jurisdiction, whether from fear of further trouble or anxiety about their safety, she was never sure.

 

Looking around her, from the water of Lake Washington, to the mountains to the east, Meg had said to her husband:

 

"You're legally a Canadian citizen, Jian. Why complicate things? The border is only a little more than one hundred fifty miles away. Close enough to visit family here."

 

"Yet far enough away from the United States justice system..." John had mused, completing her thought for her, an occurrence that was happening with increasing frequency.

 

"...and any old friends of Wei's...." Meg finished.

 

"Zeedo would be pleased, I think," John replied, laughing quietly in her ear. Meg grinned, turning in his arms, enjoying the closeness of their bodies in the winter chill.

 

"I'm looking forward to snow. They say that it snows just about every winter around Vancouver. Maybe not a lot, but more than it does here according to your uncle. I'd like to live somewhere where I can watch the snow come down, watch our children playing in it."

 

"Wherever my beautiful Meg wants to live, we shall." John had confirmed, drawing her in for a deep kiss which she happily returned.

 

By the time the Chinese new year began, the move was complete. Meg had left her apartment and the life she'd known behind happily, without a backward glance. With the proceeds of the sale of John's loft, they had been able to buy a beautiful two story home on wooded acreage in the Vancouver suburb of Surrey.

 

John, Meg quickly discovered, had many heretofore unrevealed talents, undertaking to

 

remodel the house himself, he revealed a flair for carpentry that she would never have guessed at. He seemed to take particular pleasure in using the hands that had been forced to kill so many, to create instead of destroy. He'd added bedrooms to the house and redesigned the interior along Chinese lines, incorporating principles of feng shui. Meg had been delighted with the result. John soon turned his avocation into vocation by designing and building custom furniture, and in remodeling homes, as well as building new ones, specializing in traditionally themed dwellings for the area's burgeoning Chinese population.

 

Waiting for her own citizenship to work its way through channels, Meg had begun taking classes at Simon Fraser University, discovering in herself a heretofore undiscovered talent for writing. Deeply interested in the country her husband and his family had fled, she expanded her budding interest into a full time course load of study.

 

During the day, she studied Chinese history and the Mandarin language, at night, John coached her to proficiency with Cantonese.

 

Liu Shen and Lee Ma were frequent visitors. Before the first year of their new lives was over, Lau Ruong-Jie, declaring Los Angeles too boring without them, had moved north, transferring to a Buddhist temple in nearby Richmond, another suburb of Vancouver.

 

Meg awakened a winter morning, nearly a year after they had moved, to find the walls of the bedroom she shared with John strangely alight.

 

Slipping out of the warmth of his arms, taking special care not to wake him, she padded softly to the window that overlooked the driveway and front yard.

 

The ground glistened in the early morning sunshine with newly fallen snow. At least three inches were on the ground, having fallen silently in the night.

 

She was enchanted and stood for some minutes in delighted silence, taking in the sight of the glistening ice crystals that spread over the window, and the reflections, like a millions of sparkling jewels of the sunlight on the snow.

 

John's arms were soon around her. Roused from a peaceful sleep by missing her body next to his, he'd moved behind her quietly, as she stood, quietly captivated by the winter wonderland before her.

 

&lt;"Snow, Jian! Snow!"&gt; she exclaimed in Cantonese, turning in his arms, her delight infectious. He was soon grinning at her.

 

&lt;Too cold, let's go back to bed,"&gt; Jian urged.

 

&lt;"No! I want to go out in it. You don't know what its like, living all those years in LA. I've waited for this!&gt;

 

John appeared to consider for a moment, his brow drawing and a put on frown on his face, then he brightened.

 

&lt;"Yes! But only if you bundle up! I will not have you catching cold!?&gt; he admonished, never really having the heart to deny her anything.

 

Meg grinned at him, "Deal!" she announced in English. Part of being married to John had meant growing used to having someone who looked after her, cautioning her to bundle up against the far cooler climate of their new home, making sure she wore a hat and carried an umbrella in the frequent rain. In some respects he had never quite gotten over the idea that she was fragile, born of the worry of those first weeks after she'd been shot.

 

And of course, it was no less a consideration for her that John guard his health just as religiously as he bid her to do. Those that came to know them often marveled at their unabashed solicitousness for each other.

 

Allowing herself to be urged into an extra layer of clothes, Meg clattered down the stairway and into the front hall, where John helped her put on her new snow boots, and she urged him into his.

 

Bundled up to mutual satisfaction, they raced into their front yard, throwing snowballs at each other, dodging the frosty missiles playfully, shouting and laughing like two children.

 

Finally, after unsuccessfully trying to stuff a fistful of snow down John's collar to the delighted accompaniment of his boyish, bubbling laugh, Meg found herself being rolled over in the snow, John pinning her arms down to the ground and kissing her, long and lovingly.

 

It was the perfect opportunity, the perfect place, the ideal moment to break the news she'd suspected for a few weeks, but had only had confirmed yesterday. As his lips parted from hers and he looked down at her in loving adoration, she rose up, freeing her arms and throwing them around his neck.

 

"We're on our way to fielding that basketball team we've talked about, Jian," she said, using their mutual joke about the height of any children they might have, "I'm pregnant."

 

John's eyes widened in surprise, then went even wider in delight. Before Meg knew what she was about, he was on his feet, pulling her up and dusting the snow from her waterproofed clothing with a studied gallantry, then he swept her into a low dip, renewing his passionate kiss of a few moments before.

 

"I want a girl," he said, setting her back on her feet, enfolding her in a bear hug, "just like her mother."

 

Meg grinned at him, shaking her head, "I want a boy, just like his father."

 

"We will just have to keep on trying, until we both have our hearts desire," John opined, his nose touching hers, the warmth of his breath buffeting her lips.

 

"Or that basketball team we've talked about." Meg replied. "This is just the icing on the cake. I've already gotten my heart's desire,," she admitted, tracing the line of his face gently and lovingly.

 

"So have I," John said, taking Meg's face between his two hands.

 

"But John, I've got to tell you, if it is a boy, we are not naming him Stan like you promised Zedkov. I don't give a damn about the famed Lee honor, it just isn't going to happen," Meg warned.

 

John's laughter rang through the cold winter air, and soon, the delightful sound infected Meg with similar mirth.

 

They played in the snow again for a few minutes, before John decided his beautiful wife had had enough snow and cold for one day. He took her by the hand and led her into their house, where he sat her down and prepared her favorite breakfast, dim sum. Then they returned to their bedroom, spending this sunny, snowy Saturday in bed, making love.

 

Together. Forever.

 

\--The End--

 

 

Makes Me Wanna Die - A Replacement Killers Sequel ©2003 L.A. Adolf.

Characters from The Replacement Killers ©1997 Columbia Pictures.

 

 

"Makes Me Wanna Die" - A "Replacement Killers" Sequel is copyright 2003 L.A. Adolf.

Please do not reprint without permission. This file was downloaded from www.templeofchow.com

 

 

Status of this story: 25 chapters, complete and revised.

 

 

 

 


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